#expecting to fall and die alone because its what his mindset was. he thought he deserved to fall and suffer. but robin saved him!!!

[noscomnias]

"even though we may take different paths, i am... still his little sister."

[alexiethymia]

A Case Study on Vanitas’ Character: On Vanitas’ Two Conditions

Since they’re animating the What is Love? episode next (episode 7), I couldn’t help but want to talk about that chapter. [spoilers for anime-only watchers!]

Vanitas has two conditions for Jeanne: 

1) She mustn’t drink blood from anyone else but him.

I admit that like Jeanne, it’s easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking Vanitas is a better guy than he is because of certain biases. Let’s admit it, this part was plain blackmail, and yet for some reason, with what we know of Vanitas now, there are also different ways of seeing this scene. 

Vanitas is ‘blackmailing’ Jeanne, but at the same time that blackmail is actually him also offering a solution to Jeanne’s problem. AND YET, HE DOES IT IN SUCH A WAY SO THAT JEANNE NEVER HAS TO FEEL LIKE SHE OWES HIM. More to the point, he does it in such a way to ensure that Jeanne continues hating him. In other words he, in his own twisted way, is doing a nice thing for Jeanne, while ensuring that she never likes him for it. Now I’m not saying it’s a purely altruistic thing, but I still think that Vanitas is drawn to Jeanne because she reminds him of himself back then. If so he knows precisely how to get her to receive help albeit through manipulative means. 

It’s not a purely altruistic thing. He states it so himself, what he gets out of it is the ‘divine feeling’ Jeanne sucking his blood gives to him again purposefully painting himself as a pervert so that Jeanne wouldn’t like him for helping her. But if we are to believe some theories that it’s not actually as enjoyable as he himself paints it out to be (I digress, but I think he’s being honest here. He strikes me as having a bit of a masochistic streak in him) (I digress from my digression, but theory time, what’s his bases of comparison?? Who besides Luna and Jeanne have drunk from him??), then there’s another dimension to his condition of ‘you must drink blood, only from me’. If he’s just in this for the feeling it gives him, then why word the condition that way? He’s never stricken me as possessive of Jeanne despite his words of ‘I want to possess all of you’, and as he’s stated, he doesn’t want Jeanne to love him back. I think this is just another case of his ‘use me’ mindset rearing its head again. He’s said it to Count Orlock, and we know that it started since his time with Dr. Moreau. It is definitely, definitely, unhealthy, and I believe it’s also coupled with his slight suicidal tendencies. If worst comes to worst and Jeanne ends up going out of control and killing him, he seems not to care. 

Going off tangent here, but another one of his contradictions is how ruthless he is at surviving and yet how careless he is with his life, especially when it comes to people caring for him. He’d rather be left in the snow than have Jeanne take care of him as repayment for him protecting her, or when he got angry at Noe for protecting him from Ruthven.

But at his core and as Luna stated, Vanitas is a kind child. It’s developed in an unhealthy way, but he’s quite self-sacrificial. It’s fine for Jeanne to use him so that Jeanne has a focus or outlet. At least when the craving for blood gets to be too much, Jeanne knows there’s someone she can drink from, which helps her so that she doesn’t lose control and lash out against Luca for example. And on Vanitas’ side, it seems like it’s fine for him to be put at risk so other people don’t have to be, and on Jeanne’s part too, it also helps her from further hating herself if she ends up hurting other people. 

In other words, his condition is both a selfish and selfless one, yet he paints it to be blackmail. It’s not an entirely good thing for him to do, because there’s definitely power play involved, but it’s also not as scummy as it is initially presented out to be with what we now know of his past. 

2) For Jeanne to call him by ‘name’. 

There are so many things going on here that I just can’t help but ramble about it. Firstly, I’m really interested in how this’ll be translated in the anime. Did Vanitas say call me by ‘Vanitas’, or call me by ‘my name’? Because if it’s the latter, then couldn’t Vanitas also mean (although not fully consciously) that he wants someone to call him by his true name like Luna did before he inherited the name ‘Vanitas’? (And I will just die if in a future chapter, Jeanne and Noe do end up getting to call him by his original name).  

Second, there are slight parallels and contrasts with this arrangement he has with Jeanne and with the one he had back then with Moreau. Obviously Moreau is trash and took full advantage of ‘No. 69′. He exercised all the power. In this case, Jeanne is hesitant about hurting Vanitas despite how aggravating he is towards her. She doesn’t want to drink his blood at all. Moreau was a human. Jeanne is a vampire, and despite physically being superior towards Vanitas she changes her demand into a plea or request for Vanitas to keep her secret. (And whelp that’s when she sealed her fate, because she apparently triggered Vanitas. Don’t worry though Jeanne, you’ll get your payback soon enough). Vanitas was completely without power before, so faced with a similar situation this time around, I think part of him let the power get to his head, causing him to partly take advantage of Jeanne (he’s a complete sadist AND a masochist). He has complete agency this time around. Sure he’s once again offering himself with the expectation of pain and at the risk of his life, and he’s also doing this for another person, like with Misha, but unlike with Dr. Moreau, the power is on his side this time around. 

Going off tangent, that’s one thing that Vanitas and Jeanne have to work on. Balancing power and agency. I get where Vanitas is coming from, surrounded by vampires as he is, and with his past too, but he has to realize that caring about and loving someone isn’t a matter of power. You don’t lose when you love and care. You don’t surrender power. You don’t have to take away someone’s agency or exercise your own power for you to manage to do good things for the people you care about. He has to manage that balance - likewise with Jeanne, Noe, and Domi as well. 

Going back. Since he has full agency in this case, it’s his decision to offer himself to Jeanne in this way, he doesn’t want to be dehumanized while doing so. He’s had enough trauma about that already. Despite how he words it, it’s actually a somewhat equivalent exchange between Vanitas and Jeanne. He offers her blood as a way for her to keep her sanity, but she can’t be removed from it, she has to look at him properly and consider him a person with full agency and choices, and not just as ‘that human’. 

And looking at their faces - Jeanne’s is an incredulous one as if to say, ‘that’s it?’ It’s both an easy and difficult thing for her to do. Meanwhile, for Vanitas, I’d expected him to look goading, but he just looks patient and soft. At least in this instance, I don’t see it as him forcing Jeanne to do something she doesn’t want to do - just an unexpected moment of wanting to be known and treated as himself. 

LISTEN HE IS FULL OF CONTRADICTIONS OK. We’re led to believe that all of his interactions with Jeanne until the moment he realized he fell in love with her was just him teasing her, but I believe he was already in the process of falling in love with her slowly. I’ll go so far as to say that he was the one who fell in love first, but he just interpreted it as his being ‘excited’ by her. In other words, the words he said (’I love you’) which we thought was a lie was actually the truth, albeit a truth he didn’t realize much later. 

Why do I think so? It’s because he revealed certain moments of vulnerability or sincerity with her or about her without any of the teasing, as represented by the italicized dialogue. It’s the same case for when he said he didn’t want to trod on her foot with Noe, or when he happily grinned and he said forthright Jeanne was the side of her he liked best (or when he promised he’d kill her). 

This is just an example of his contradiction. He never wanted or expected Jeanne to fall in love with him, and sure this could just be his wanting to push boundaries or test limits, being the chaotic person that he is, and yet, wanting to be called by name is a desire to form a genuine connection. 

He could have just remained as ‘that human’ to Jeanne while interacting with her. After all, what could stop him? He also had the first condition in place to make sure they’d continue to interact. And yet, he refused (like how Noe refuses to be ‘that vampire’ to him). 

Like Luna said, as long as he didn’t close his heart, he wouldn’t be alone. Even if Vanitas thinks it burdensome or wants to be ‘free’, it seems that he still does long for connection - romantic, platonic, or otherwise. 

And this is why I ship them, even in this instance so early on in the manga when arguably the dynamic wasn’t at its healthiest. It’s because of their background that draws them to each other and allows them an understanding of one another. It’s because of that desire to know more about each other. It’s because of that genuine care and wanting to form a connection with each other, despite part of them rejecting it because of their issues.

Do I think they’re good for each other? Yes. Admittedly, they have so much to work on, but I believe that they push (Vanitas with regards to Jeanne’s blood addiction, and Jeanne with Vanitas in his moment of vulnerability) because the both of them tend to be self-destructive if left to their own devices. It’s just that their version of care for each other is aggressive. They’ll have to find that balance though eventually. On Vanitas’ part he also has to be inspired by Noe that the kind of salvation a person wants may not be the best possible outcome, especially for those left behind. I’m not sure what Mochizuki sensei’s end message is suppose to be, but death I don’t believe is salvation.   

tldr: Vanitas is a self-sacrificial idiot who longs for connections under layers of self-loathing (but he’s still an asshole), and VaniJeanne is a good ship which had the foundations laid down from the beginning. 

[bigbadredpanda]

Helloo, would it be a possible interpretation that the ideals and mindset that wwx follows is close to the religion and practice of Taoism?

Hello! That’s a fascinating question and I wish I had more knowledge to delve deeper on the subject but I’m a bit more familiar with the philosophy/spirituality part of Taoism than with its religious practices and rites. As always, anyone is welcome to add to the discussion or correct me if I misconstrue something, this is a vast topic and I’m just an interested layperson!

Xianxia in itself is a literary genre rife with references to Taoism: the pursuit of immortality, the internal alchemy to form a golden core, the Taoist exorcisms to drive out evil spirits, Taoist incantations and talismans, etc... But that does not necessarily make cultivators Taoists.

At the heart of Taoism is the philosophy of espousing harmony with nature, with the self, with the Tao. It’s about simplicity, spontaneity, non-attachment to worldly desires. In the introduction of my copy of the Zhuangzi (庄子), one of the main Taoist texts, the translator chooses the hero Yu the Great to epitomise the “going with the flow instead of fighting against the current” attitude dear to Taoists. Yu the Great is a legendary figure whose father, Kun, was tasked by the emperor Shun to protect the country from floods. Kun built barrages and dykes that held momentarily the waters in check but they ended up bursting, causing a flood even more devastating. The emperor banished Kun and entrusted the son, Yu the Great, with the same mission. Yu the Great succeeded by digging canals to help the course of water and let it flow to the sea. Yu the Great is referenced several times in the Zhuangzi and, interestingly, Wei Wuxian himself takes him as a model when he challenges Lan Qiren in the classroom and sows the seeds of what would become the foundation of his demonic cultivation:

魏无羡道：“横竖有些东西度化无用，何不加以利用？大禹治水亦知，堵为下策，疏为上策。镇压即为堵，岂非下策……”

Wei Wuxian said, “Anyway, there are some things that cannot be liberated so why not make use of them? Yu the Great who controlled the waters knew that building barrages to block was ineffective and dredging canals to reroute was the superior method. Suppression counts as blocking, wouldn’t is also be considered ineffective...” (ch.14)

The carefree and unfettered part of Wei Wuxian’s nature does fit Taoist ideals, you even have the opposition of the more Confucian-oriented Gusu Lan Sect and its rigid abidance with rules and ethics. However, Wei Wuxian is at odds with a key concept of Taoism: the principle of non-action (无为 wuwei). It’s not passivity or laziness, it’s letting nature runs its course, letting things fall into place. Wei Wuxian is very much shown to be assertive, even wilful, when his mind and heart are set on one thing. He does not hesitate to take matters into his own hands and jump into action. That’s especially true of his younger self who would rebel instead of do nothing, his older and wiser self after he is reborn is a bit more circumspect and knows when to speak out and when to hold his peace. Non-action is seen as the guiding principle of an ideal ruler, without the interference of government meddling, the state would (hypothetically) flourish on its own. I’ve seen some good meta on both the Chinese and the English-speaking sides of the fandom that makes good arguments that it’s actually Lan Xichen who personifies best this concept (x). Speaking of other characters from MDZS that parallel Taoist parables, Nie Huaisang reminds of the good-for-nothing tree which is praised by Zhuangzi. Because it bears no fruit, no one tore its branches to strip the fruits from them, because its wood is of poor quality, no carpenters cut it down. It is left alone and it is able to live long.

The Tao Te Ching (道德经, Daodejing) expounds three basic virtues called the Three Treasures (三宝): compassion (慈), frugality (俭) and humility (不敢为天下先, lit. ‘daring not to put oneself before others’ or ‘daring not to be first in the world’). The first two are for sure among Wei Wuxian’s qualities but the last one is more contentious, not because he is arrogant or boastful but because he dares setting himself apart. The following analysis in from a commentary of the Taoist text:

The third treasure, daring not be at the world's front, is the Taoist way to avoid premature death. To be at the world's front is to expose oneself, to render oneself vulnerable to the world's destructive forces, while to remain behind and to be humble is to allow oneself time to fully ripen and bear fruit. This is a treasure whose secret spring is the fear of losing one's life before one's time. This fear of death, out of a love for life, is indeed the key to Taoist wisdom. (Ellen M. Chen) 

Wei Wuxian did not hesitate to ‘expose himself’ by being willing to be the first practitioner of demonic cultivation and in the end his downfall was at the hands of ‘the world’s destructive forces’, warmongering rumours and bloodthirsty hostility. Wei Wuxian is also not subject to fear of death, there are a few quotes that exemplify his carefree, devil-may-care mindset:

使我徒有身后名不如即时一杯酒。

Better have a cup of wine here and now rather than leave behind a posthumous good name. (ch.75 & Wei Wuxian’s CQL character song Qu Jin Chen Qing)

The quotation above comes from A New Account of the Tales of the World (世说新语), a collection of various anecdotes that was compiled in the 5th century, fittingly it’s from the “The Free and Unrestrained” (任诞) section.

生前哪管身后事，浪得几日是几日。

Why care about what happens after death while one is alive? Better live life to the utmost while one can. (ch.16)

I’m not sure if this one is a literary citation or not as I haven’t been able to track down a quote with this exact wording but it was very reminiscent to me to a chapter of the Liezi (列子), another Taoist text, attributes the following thoughts to the hedonist philosopher Yang Zhu:

One hundred years is the limit of a long life. Not one in a thousand ever attains it. Suppose there is one such person. Infancy and feeble old age take almost half of his time. Rest during sleep at night and what is wasted during the waking hours in the daytime take almost half of that. Pain and sickness, sorrow and suffering, death (of relatives) and worry and fear take almost half of the rest. In the ten and some years that is left, I reckon, there is not one moment in which we can be happy, at ease without worry. This being the case, what is life for? What pleasure is there? For beauty and abundance, that is all. For music and sex, that is all. But the desire for beauty and abundance cannot always be satisfied, and music and sex cannot always be enjoyed. Besides, we are prohibited by punishment and exhorted by rewards, pushed by fame and checked by law. We busily strive for the empty praise which is only temporary, and seek extra glory that would come after death. Being alone ourselves, we pay great care to what our ears hear and what our eyes see, and are much concerned with what is right or wrong for our bodies and minds. Thus we lose the great happiness of the present and cannot give ourselves free rein for a single moment. What is the difference between that and many chains and double prisons?

"Men of great antiquity knew that life meant to be temporarily present and death meant to be temporarily away. Therefore they acted as they pleased and did not turn away from what they naturally desired. They would not give up what could amuse their own persons at the time. Therefore they were not exhorted by fame. They roamed as their nature directed and would not be at odds with anything. They did not care for a name after death and therefore punishment never touched them. They took no heed of fame, being ahead or being behind, or the span of life."

The myriad creatures are different in life but the same in death. In life they may be worthy or stupid, honorable or humble. This is where they differ. In death they all stink, rot, disintegrate, and disappear. This is where they are the same. [...] The man of virtue and the sage die; the wicked and the stupid also die. In life they were Yao and Shun [sage-emperors]; in death they are rotten bones. In life they were Jie and Zhou [wicked kings]; in death they are rotten bones. Thus they all became rotten bones just the same. Who knows their difference? Let us enjoy our present life. Why should we worry about what comes after death?” (A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, trans. Wing-tsit Chan)

It’s quite a long extract so I highlighted the most relevant parts that echo Wei Wuxian’s ideas and in particular his motto in life:

是非在己，毁誉由人，得失不论 。

Right and wrong are decided by oneself, praise and condemnation depend on others, gains and losses are insignificant. (ch.75)

This is for me the defining quote of the novel that encapsulates the overarching theme of the story. This sentence is so popular that it’s the go-to quote on Wei Wuxian-related merch and it also features on the cover of the book in simplified Chinese.

We find in the Yang Zhu chapter of the Liezi the same ‘carpe diem’ attitude, the nonchalance about death, the disregard of social conventions and the futility of reputation. Nevertheless, Yang Zhu does not exactly have a place with other Taoist thinkers as he promotes acting in self-interest, a form of ethical egotism that does not take heed of other people’s benefit. The translator from the extract above calls it ‘negative Taoism’. As we are well aware, Wei Wuxian has a much more benevolent and altruistic outlook:

我娘说过的，你要记着别人对你的好，不要去记你对别人的好。人心里不要装那么多东西，这样才会快活自在。

My mom said that you should remember the kindness you received from others and not the kindness you gave. That's the only way to find happiness and be free as the heart can only carry so much. (ch.113)

Wei Wuxian’s life philosophy is about remembering the good you've been granted and keep giving without expecting anything in return. If you let yourself to be fettered by bad memories, if you dwell on the past, negative feelings like anger and envy will take roots in your heart. It takes great courage and integrity to be able to move on from painful experiences without holding grudges and retain the ability to greet the future with a smile.

These themes remind me of the lyrics of the song Enlightenment (悟) from the film Shaolin,《新少林寺》, it’s a moving song that draws a lot from Buddhist influences:

为何君视而不见 规矩定方圆

Why do you look without seeing and let conventions decide the rules?

悟性 悟觉 悟空 心甘情愿

I open my heart, coming to my senses and awakening to emptiness

放下 颠倒梦想 放下云烟

Let go of your confused dreams, let go of the things fleeting like mist

放下 空欲色 放下悬念

Let go of idleness, desire, pleasure, let go of the trouble weighting your heart

多一物 却添了 太多危险

One thing more adds too much danger

少一物 贪嗔痴 会少一点

One thing less and vices will be alleviated [lit. ‘greed, aversion, delusion’, the Three Poisons in Buddhism]

唯有 心无挂碍 成就大愿

Only with a heart without worries can your wishes be accomplished

唯有 心无故 妙不可言

There is no greater marvel than an unburdened heart

This ended up to be such a long-winded and maybe inconclusive answer but to me, Taoism, Buddhism and Confucianism, have all deeply shaped Chinese customs, ideas and culture with sometimes no clear boundaries where one begins and the other ends. Wei Wuxian’s ideals, his free-spiritedness and his probity, are reflected in these different schools of thoughts and spiritual currents but there is not a single all-encompassing one that matches him to a tee. In the end, what perhaps defines him best is his name that befits his nature, Wei Ying, the guileless innocence of a child, someone who can cheerfully go through life with a clear conscience and an unburdened heart.

[starkeristheendgame]

I would absolutely die for a fic where peter and tony are having sex and it’s not Peter’s first time but it is his first time with tony. And tony is just Kissing Peters Body up and down and he accidentally finds Peter’s sweet spots, which peter didn’t even know about. And tony can’t stop teasing peter there, who just melts and can’t form any coherent thoughts and he never knew it could feel that good because the few times he had sex where just mediocre. But this... is not.

This came out probably a lot softer than you intended, and they don’t even get all the way to actually fucking, but I hope that this satisfies! Its very sweet, loving, and now I feel like an empty shell lmao. 

TW: Very brief mention of being loosely tied up with silk. 

Sex was... Okay. 

Like most teenagers Peter had approached sex in a divided mindset; the terror of human bodies and all the things that could go wrong or be embarrassing, and the romanticised notion born from too many movies and books that sex was some magical, intimate act that would transport him to new planes of pleasure and mindfulness. 

And, like most teenagers, losing his virginity decimated any expectations and preconceived notions he’d had. It was... Just sex. It was good, yes, a little awkward maybe, perhaps more intimate in long term relationships, but it was just sex. Two bodies and two orgasms. 

Good like fresh bedsheets or a nice meal. 

Despite all the fantasies, Peter imagined sex with Mr. Stark wouldn’t be all that different. Yes, Mr. Stark was very experienced and would perhaps make it less awkward and a lot better, but Peter was no longer some daydreaming fool when it came to the act. 

Sex was sex, and that was fine. He was apprehensive and eager for it both once he and Mr. Stark began to date, but it wasn’t life shattering or changing anymore.

Until it kind of was. 

Tony’s teeth scraped along his collarbone at the same time as he used his thumb to massage the space between Peter’s balls and his tight, slick hole and he arched up into the older man’s chest with a keen, cock twitching where it lay neglected against his hip. 

Sex, in Peter’s previous experience, didn’t last that long. Most of it was taken up by weak foreplay and preparation, and the main event was typically a ten to twenty minute affair, but it had been half an hour so far and Tony hadn’t even entered him yet. 

“I could keep you like this all night, darling” Tony murmured against the crook of his neck, moving his hand up to massage the ridge of Peter’s hip bone gently, thumb skating along the prominent curve. “You look so beautiful. All flushed, pleased, so pretty under me.”

Being spoken to by Tony wasn’t like the crude, over-scripted talk in porn, or the cringey, poetic sex talk in romance movies and novels. It felt... Different. Genuine. It sank into the core of his bones and made a home there, warming him from the inside out. 

“The sounds you make alone are enough to drive me insane,” Tony continued, kissing his way up the groove of Peter’s neck in soft, barely-there brushes of his hips, right up to the hinge of Peter’s jaw where he pressed another kiss, then begun a path down his jawbone. 

Peter writhed beneath him, patience frayed, and tried to turn his head to catch Tony’s mouth, but the older man quieted him gently and kissed his temple, hand sliding back down slowly, mapping out his body. 

“Tony, please,” Peter tried desperately, hips jerking when Tony’s knuckles brushed against the side of his cock, like the touch was accidental. Tony hadn’t touched his cock in over ten minutes, and Peter had no idea how he was still hard, how this all felt so good when Tony was barely doing anything in terms of objective touching. 

Tony seemed to take pity on him for the briefest moment, palm laying flat over his flushed dick, fingertips sliding over his balls in one firm, downward stroke, and just as Peter could cry with relief, they were gone again, tracing gentle shapes along the inside of his played thighs. It was the sweetest torture, and Peter was a willing victim. 

“I t-thought you said you were gonna f-fuck me,” he tried, voice too breathy to be as taunting as he’d like. Tony merely blinked up at him with a soft smile, flexing his fingers so that on an upstroke, his nails dragged along Peter’s sensitive skin. It made the teen twitch and gasp, thighs falling further apart like that alone might finally entice Tony into sliding between them. 

“I’m sorry. I’m being selfish,” Tony murmured after a brief respite of silence and stilled touch, shifting to kiss Peter’s shoulder, then trail his lips lower, sliding over Peter’s pectoral until he closed his lips over a hard, rosy nipple. 

Peter’s body curled as the air rushed from his lungs, stomach muscles flexing and shoulders hunching as Tony suckled softly, tongue laving over the sensitive bud before his teeth closed over it, the barest scrape that had Peter yelling out, hips rutting up into nothingness. 

He felt like he couldn’t decide between writhing away from it or chasing it, the strange, pointed pleasure nonsensical as he tugged on the weak hold of the silk Tony had wrapped around his wrists, fixing them loosely to the bedposts. 

He could break the hold all too easily, but he was careful not to, even as his lower lip wobbled with stimulation that was somewhere between too much and not enough. 

Tony gave a low hum in response and tipped his head, rubbing a stubbled cheek against his chest that had scratchy pleasure radiating out across his skin, a dribble of pre-cum sliding pathetically over the tip of his cock and onto his stomach. 

“Beautiful,” Tony praised him, kissing his chest before pinching his nipple again, pleasure on the very edge of pain. It left him breathless and ruddy cheeked, staring imploringly down at Tony with nothing on his mind but the hope of conveying the fact that he’d very, very much like to get fucked now. 

He was starting to think that maybe sex had just been ‘okay’ before because it hadn’t been with Tony. 

“Colour?” Tony asked him softly as he pressed a kiss to Peter’s ribs, and Peter let out a breath, relaxing against the bedding for a moment. 

“Green,” he replied without hesitation. That was also some new and different about sex with Tony; the introduction of a system to check in on Peter’s headspace and comfort. It had sounded strange and maybe unnecessary at first, but Peter saw the benefits of it. 

“Good boy,” Tony hummed, shuffling carefully down Peter’s side to wriggle between his splayed legs, running his palms soothing down Peter’s thighs, up and down like one might stroke a dog. The touch was pleasant and calming and Peter let himself lay there for the duration of it, catching his breath. 

One of Tony’s hands withdrew and there was the unmistakable sound of the lube tub opening between Peter’s panted breaths, the squelch of the liquid squeezing out and then Tony’s hand higher on the inside of his thigh, telegraphing his intentions as he gently kneaded Peter’s asscheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles before spreading him apart gently. 

He held his breath in anticipation and immediately lost it when a hot breath blew over his straining cock, soft lips chasing it a moment later. 

“O-Oohh,” he managed, moaning softly as Tony mouthed lazily at the slope between his balls and his slender length, tongue sliding a gentle and wet path up, down, the slickness kissed away by his lips. 

It had no right to feel good for what it was, and yet it did, the faintest hint of pleasure that had Peter wriggling impatiently, tugging at his bindings without intent. Tony kept nuzzling and kissing the soft, thin skin, humming lowly so the vibrations trickled through him. 

He was so focused on the minuscule offering that he almost missed the gentle pressure of Tony’s slick fingertips against his hole, would have missed it entirely if not for the way that they pressed forwards and his body caved easily, bending them opening greedily, welcoming the intrusion and sucking Tony deeper in a warm, silky slide. 

He mouth fell open and he tried to grind down, to force them in deeper. It stretched but it didn’t really hurt, a whisper of a dull ache as Tony’s stubble prickled at the round swell of his balls. 

“Taking it so well, Peter. Look at you, I could watch this for days,” Tony spoke against his skin, warm and earnest. Peter let out a shaky breath and keened, thighs trembling as Tony sank his fingers right up to the last knuckle and kept them there, allowing him to adjust before he pulled them back in a slow, steady slide, again and again until it was frustratingly not enough and Peter felt like he might cry. 

“Shh, shh, honey,,” Tony soothed, kissing his way leisurely up towards the tip. “It’ll be worth it, I promise. I’ll make you feel so good. You deserve to feel so good, Peter” he continued, hot breath over the flushed, round tip of his cock before Tony’s tongue laved over it, slow and paving the way for his lips. 

Peter might actually die here, naked and spent, but that was okay, because he’d feel better than he ever had before.

[aquaquadrant]

the little things

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

~*~

Ben’s been reunited with the other campers, and seems to have come out the other end of his experience stronger than ever before. But as he slowly finds his place back within the group, a bigger picture starts to emerge, piece by piece.

Rated T for: mental illness, mild language, panic attacks, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, eating disorder (not in a traditional sense, but definitely not a healthy relationship with food)

A/N: Hey Camp Cretaceous fandom, y’all mind if I uhhhh write six-thousand words about Ben’s trauma?? Basically, Netflix kept recommending the show to me so I watched the first ep out of curiosity and then ended up binging the whole thing in like two days, and now here I am.

(Dear sweet, patient, regular readers of mine: I’m so sorry my main fic’s been delayed but I promise it’s getting updated next week, I just had to get some feelings out about Sad Dino Boy)

Hope you enjoy, please reblog and leave a comment if you do! - Aqua

Click here to read on A03 (with more complete tags)

~*~

the little things

~*~ 

Ben Pincus has returned from the dead, and he’s never been better.

The other campers are amazed. What he’s been through must have been horrible. He thought he was the only one left, that there was no one to help him and no hope of rescue because he was presumed dead. It would’ve been enough to drive anyone into despair, or off of the deep end.

But Ben shows no signs of this.

They didn’t find him holed up somewhere, near starvation and waiting to die, like one might’ve expected. They didn’t find him at all, really. He found them, and by coming to their rescue, no less. And when he did, he wasn’t a trembling mess, he wasn’t a half-mad ball of paranoia, and he wasn’t a hollow-eyed skeleton fueled solely by desperation. 

He’s an all new and improved Ben, the best version of himself.

He hasn’t just survived, he’s flourished. He’s brave, he’s confident, he’s capable. He gives his opinions freely and without second-guessing himself, suggesting things the old Ben would’ve recoiled at. He fits seamlessly into the team like he never left. He faces problems head-on with determination and grit and not a trace of fear.

The turnaround is unbelievable. But even more important is that while he’s a new and improved Ben, he’s retained all the best parts of his old self.

Ben is easy smiles and meticulous organization of a leather waist bag and doting affection for a four-ton armored lizard. He’s sensitive and soft-spoken and accepts hugs from his friends gratefully. He still can’t quite pull off coolness, with a voice that sounds as gangly as his limbs look and an awkwardness he hasn’t grown out of.

And it’s perhaps because of this that no one thinks to look closer. This image is an easy thing to accept because it’s what they all want to believe, that Ben is okay- in fact, better than okay. But the truth is not always big and obvious upon first glance.

It’s the little things, as they soon find out.

~*~

That first evening after Ben’s return, after Mitch and Tiff and everything else, they don’t eat dinner.

They all ate their fill at the campsite and, after a month of scarcity, it was more than enough to sate their appetites. It’s Darius who thinks to ask Ben if he’s hungry, remembering that the boy hadn’t had the chance to eat with them. They have a good stockpile of food at the moment and he figures Ben must’ve been struggling.

But Ben shakes his head with an easy smile, and says, “Nah, I ate earlier.”

Darius leaves it at that, because there’s still so much catching up to do. They show Ben around their clubhouse, make plans for where to build a bunk for him (he insists he’d be just fine sleeping on the ground next to Bumpy, but they all veto that immediately). They talk well into the night about the day’s crazy events, filling each other in on their own sides of the story, and everything that’s happened since Ben got separated.

There are some more tears, some more hugs. But ultimately, the mood in the clubhouse is ecstatic. They never thought Ben had survived the fall so to have him back is better than a dream come true, it’s a miracle.

Darius thought he knew what it was to experience a miracle when they first saw that bonfire smoke on the horizon. But if he had to chose between the miracle of them finally leaving the island or the miracle of getting Ben back, it’s not even a competition.

Eventually the exhaustion catches up with everyone, and they turn in for the night. Bumpy parks herself underneath the clubhouse, her presence incredibly reassuring. Ben ends up sharing Kenji’s bunk because it’s bigger than Darius’s even when occupied by two, and the older teen had insisted in a very faux-casual way, to which Ben had rolled his eyes but nonetheless seemed touched by the gesture.

Darius takes the first night watch shift and gets to see all his friends sleeping peacefully. And even though Tiff sailed away with their only means for escaping, he feels a lot more hopeful than he has in a long time.

~*~

It’s canned peaches for breakfast.

A far cry from yesterday’s buffet. But no one’s complaining because the meticulous rationing of their food, courtesy of Darius, means they’re all starving by meal time and couldn’t care less what it tastes like. Darius is in the process of separating the food out into bowls, half a can for each of them, when he realizes Ben has yet to take a seat. He’s lingering at the edge of the room, watching.

“Hey,” Darius calls, “you coming or what?”

Ben shakes his head. “Thanks, but I already got my own breakfast.”

Before Darius can respond, Brooklynn shoots Ben a look. “What? Where?” she demands. “You holding out on us, jungle boy?”

Darius shoots her a look, but Ben just gives an easy smile and unzips the leather pouch that’s reclaimed its spot around his waist. He withdraws a small handful of bright red berries, no bigger than blueberries. It’s not even a fraction of the half-can of peaches the rest of them are settling for, and Darius sees his own unease reflected in the others’ eyes.

Brooklynn glances away. “Oh. Um, sorry. You don’t… you can have some of ours, you know?”

“I’m good.” Ben tosses a couple berries into his mouth. “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go check on Bumpy.”

“O- oh, okay…” Sammy murmurs, watching Ben go with uncertain eyes. “If you’re sure…”

They’re silent for a moment.

Kenji inhales quietly through his teeth. “So… that’s weird, right?”

Yaz leans forward in her seat. “What do you think, Darius?” she asks lowly.

Darius bites his lip. Even though dinosaurs are his specific topic of interest, he’s gained a lot of second-hand knowledge about general biology and psychology. After all, he has to understand the processes behind behavior in order to identify patterns and deviations.

And right now, he has to admit that Ben is displaying a very concerning behavior.

“I’ll talk to him,” Darius decides.

There’s a collective sigh of relief around the table, and the others start eating. It takes Darius longer than usual to finish his serving.

~*~

“So, uh, bottom line is… you don’t need to feel bad about eating our food. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else, and we’re happy to share.”

After a couple tense days, Darius is finally talking to Ben about the food situation. Or rather, talking at him. Because Ben’s not looking at Darius- his eyes are tracking the small spider that’s crawling along the railing next to them. Normally, Darius would take it as a sign of boredom and inattentiveness. But there’s an intensity in Ben’s eye that’s a little unsettling-

Quick as a flash, Ben shoots out an arm. He crushes the spider under his thumb and swipes it into his mouth. And then, untroubled as can be, he returns his focus to Darius as if nothing had happened.

Darius has overheard Kenji teasing Ben about eating bugs, and Ben has admitted as much in the stories of his time alone. Berries and grubs were what he lived on. Darius, for one, can’t imagine being hungry and desperate enough to snatch a bug off the ground and eat it.

But it’s even harder to imagine having access to real food, good food, and still choosing to eat bugs.

“Don’t worry so much,” Ben says lightly, patting Darius on the shoulder as he turns to go. “I can take care of myself.”

That does it. “You can’t keep living off berries and grubs!” Darius finally snaps.

Ben whirls around. “Says who?”

“Basic human biology!” Darius retorts.

Ben glares at him, but there’s something shaky behind it. “Darius, I told you it’s fine,” he says evenly, though he doesn’t fully meet Darius’s gaze. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Please? If I’m hungry, I’ll eat.”

Darius hesitates. “You promise?”

Ben breaks into an easy smile. “I promise.”

Darius sighs. It’ll have to be good enough, for now.

“Okay.”

~*~

Darius knows he isn’t the only one still concerned by Ben’s lack of appetite.

Right from the start, Ben was the scrawniest one among them, and it’s only gotten worse. But surely he’ll have to eat at some point, right? Basic survival instincts will win out over whatever stubborn mindset is holding him back. Plus, it’s clear that he’s got enough energy to run and climb and stuff with no problem.

Maybe it’s not as serious as Darius thinks. Maybe Ben just needs time.

~*~

Ben doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He just- he can’t take their food! Why don’t they get that?

And it’s not because he’s stubborn, it’s not- no matter what Darius thinks. There’s nothing wrong with letting others help you (as long as you don’t let it make you soft, of course). After all, he relies on Bumpy. He just… when he looks at the food, and imagines eating it, he just knows it’ll sit in his stomach. Like a rock, weighing him down.

Plus, plus, if he gets used to eating like that, it’ll just- it’ll be harder to cope once it runs out. He’s already gotten used to roughing it and it was hard enough the first time, he can’t let himself slip back into complacency. And- and really, how long do they think it’s going to last? They’ve searched all the previously inhabited areas of the island and there’s no more food for them to scavenge.

Do they think they’ll be rescued before it runs out? No one is coming to save them. They know it as much as Ben does- they wouldn’t be bothering with rafts if they didn’t. Do they think they’ll escape, then? Sure, because their current attempts have been going so well.

No, they just aren’t thinking long term. Ben is.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

~*~

It’s the sixth day in a row where Ben eats nothing but berries.

He wants to search around some more, see if there’s anything more substantial. That would require him to leave Bumpy, though. And he can’t leave Bumpy. But the hunger is excruciating. It gnaws at him every waking moment, keeps him up at night. He’s never felt such hunger in his life, not even close. He can’t keep going like this, can he?

But there’s nothing else.

Except… something’s crawling up his arm. Something small, and leggy. Ben turns his head, squinting to focus his eyes in the dark. It’s some kind of beetle, with a shiny shell that catches stray shafts of moonlight poking through the roof of his lean-to.

Ben stares at it for a moment. Then, before he can think, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. He barely registers any taste, mostly just the crunchy texture. And even though it wasn’t any bigger than a quarter, after he swallows, he feels… fuller. Even if it’s purely imagined, it’s a comfort.

Berries and grubs. It’ll have to be enough.

There’s nothing else.

~*~

Ben continues to decline their offers of food.

~*~

A few weeks after the reunion, Kenji is starting to get antsy.

As the self-designated ‘pro-fun police’ (a clever play on ‘no-fun police,’ if Kenji does say so himself), he’s made it his responsibility to make sure none of his friends just keel over and die from stress one day. That means it’s his job- no, his duty- to lighten the mood with copious amounts of joking, goofing off, and, of course, pranking.

Jumping out to scare his friends while they’re trapped on a dino-infested island might, on paper, sound like a bad idea. But it keeps everyone on their toes, and the relief of realizing they aren’t facing a dino attack, just Kenji pulling a prank, helps keep any real anger at bay. It’s typically an exasperated annoyance, which Kenji will gladly take. His main targets are Brooklynn and Darius, because he can’t fathom doing that to Sammy, and Yaz is- while perhaps in the most need of lightening up- super freaking scary.

But now that Ben’s back, Kenji knows what he has to do.

Before, back when they were just campers and not survivors, Ben was easily the most frightened of them. The kid was scared of dirt. And his over-the-top hysterics always managed to, somehow, put everyone else at ease. Because if Ben was scared of something, that didn’t really mean anything. Again; scared of dirt.

(Now, if Yaz is scared of something, that’s a different story).

Since Ben’s, uh… departure, they’ve been sorely lacking that energy in the group. Kenji would wager he’s not the only one who misses it. He used to have so much fun riling Ben up with just a couple words (none of the others are so easily baited). And whenever Ben would freak out and instantly cling to him, like some kind of scrawny spider monkey, it made Kenji feel… capable, in a way.

Like, if Ben was trusting Kenji to protect him, maybe he wasn’t so useless after all (which was becoming an all too frequent feeling as the others continued to adapt and grow, leaving Kenji struggling to keep up).

Problem is, Ben’s really hard to scare now.

It’s not always obvious, like when he’s bragging about taking down Toro or itching to blow things up. Sometimes it’s the little things. Whenever they’re out in a group, foraging or gathering supplies, and there’s a sound in the distance that makes them all freeze, Ben’s frozen in readiness, not fear. He looks more like Yaz, tense and waiting with his fists up and eyes narrowed.

Sometimes, when they aren’t occupied by any particular task or imminent threat, and have the chance to enjoy some downtime, Ben drifts off to the side and just… watches, all tense, silent, and anxious. He’ll watch the tree line, or Bumpy on the ground below, or even just the rest of them as they go about their business. Kenji is sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed but none of them bring it up.

It’s… unsettling, seeing Ben like this. Kenji figured he just needed a couple weeks to fall back into the rhythm of the group, to see that he didn’t have to be this loner Rambo type of guy anymore. But even though he talks with them easy enough, seems to enjoy their company, and has a good handle on teamwork, it’s like there’s a part of him that can’t fully shake that mentality.

At least, not without help.

~*~

 Kenji’s plan is- in his humble opinion- pretty dang brilliant.

He waits for a time when it’s just him and Ben in the main level of the clubhouse (Yaz is running laps around their perimeter, Darius is in his bunk writing in his nerd book, Brooklynn and Sammy are upstairs going over inventory) and then announces he’s going for a shower. His daily showers are common knowledge at this point, so Ben just nods in acknowledgement and goes back to leaning against the railing, watching Bumpy graze down below in that tense-silent-anxious way of his.

Kenji sets up the shower and lets it run (he’ll go down to the river later and get more water to make up for the waste, because even though he tries to avoid manual labor whenever possible, it’s totally worth it in this case). And then, being more careful and silent than he’s ever been (except maybe in cases where he’s being hunted by dinos), he slowly creeps up behind Ben before leaping forward with a shriek, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Ben doesn’t just jump and scream. He jumps, screams, then spins around and swings a fist into Kenji’s jaw in one smooth motion.

Kenji’s laughing even as he staggers back, his jaw stinging (because at the end of the day, even though Ben’s kind of a badass now, he’s still Ben and his arms are pretty much chicken wings so there’s no real harm done, just a bruise at most). Plus that’s a valid reaction, considering everything, and he can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Oh man, I totally got you!” Kenji says anyways, to rub it in. “You should see your… face...”

And Kenji trails off because now he’s seeing Ben’s face.

What Kenji expected is this:

Once Ben realized it was just him pulling a prank, he would get mad. In that totally non-threatening dorky Ben way, where he scrunches his nose and puffs out his cheeks, his little fists clenched at his side like an irate toddler. Maybe he’d stomp off but it’d be worth it because being mad is better than being tense-silent-anxious and it’d give him the chance to be annoyed with Kenji. And maybe Ben being annoyed with Kenji would help everything feel a little more normal, a little more like before.

What Kenji gets is this:

Once Ben realizes it was just him pulling a prank, he doesn’t get mad. He starts shaking. Violently, uncontrollably. Like he’s suddenly come down with hypothermia despite being in a tropical jungle, staring at Kenji all the while and not saying a word. His chest rises and falls rapidly in little panicky breaths and the kind of fear in his eyes isn’t the kind that’s funny. It’s glassy-eyed with shrunken pupils that dart around Kenji’s face, frightened and searching, as if he isn’t fully seeing it.

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

Kenji hasn’t heard Ben’s voice sound that small since before, and it doesn’t feel like a victory.

By now, of course, the others have noticed the commotion and it doesn’t take more than a second for them to piece together what happened. Yaz rounds on Kenji with a furious snarl and whisper-screams a lecture about how stupid and irresponsible he is. Darius is immediately trying to mediate the situation while Sammy frantically asks Ben if he’s okay, to which he doesn’t respond. Brooklynn steps in, citing an unboxing video about dealing with shock, and when she goes to put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he lets her.

And now Kenji realizes where he miscalculated. Ben never showed discomfort with physical contact before because he’d never been surprised by it before (because Ben has gotten scary good at being alert, always keeping an eye and an ear out on his surroundings even in the middle of a conversation). And when it came to his friends, it wasn’t unexpected for Sammy to rush in with a hug or Darius to pat his shoulder or Brooklynn to playfully knock elbows.

But Kenji snuck up on him, so Ben’s first thought wasn’t that it was a friend. It was that he was going to have to run for his life, like he has countless times since being stranded on this island.

Kenji apologizes over and over again as Darius gently leads him away by the elbow and Brooklynn talks to Ben in low tones while Sammy squeezes his hand and Yaz takes up a lookout position because they can’t afford for all of them to be distracted even though she occasionally cuts a glare at Kenji out of the corner of her eye so it’s really debatable how vigilant she’s actually being.

Throughout it all, Ben doesn’t get mad, but he doesn’t stop shaking.

 ~*~

 Darius explains it, later.

“The sudden fear reaction signaled a bunch of adrenaline to be released into his bloodstream, to give him the energy needed for running. And then, when he didn’t, there was nowhere for that energy to go. It’s like, even though his mind knew there wasn’t any danger, his body wasn’t convinced.” Then, a sympathetic look. “You didn’t know, man.”

Kenji only nods. But knowing doesn’t make it better because even though Ben’s stopped shaking he doesn’t turn his back on Kenji anymore and somehow that’s a million times worse than if he’d gotten mad.

 ~*~

 There are claws wrapped around Ben’s shoulders and shrieks in his ears.

Wind whips his face and his stomach lurches as he’s carried through the air, weightless, at the mercy of the Pteranodon. He’s never felt so small and utterly helpless before, not once in his life. Even his screams aren’t big enough to carry, snatched away by the wind and deafened by the roars of the terror-birds fighting over the right to tear him limb from limb.

And then he’s falling and has other things to worry about.

 ~*~

 Ben stops sharing Kenji’s bunk.

 ~*~

 In a rare moment of downtime, Yasmina is curled up with Darius’s field guide, adding a few more illustrations, when she feels Ben staring at her.

It’s not the first time she’s felt him staring at her. It is the first time, however, that she decides to stare back.

She means it to be playful, at first. She meets his eyes, one brow quirked as if to say, ‘What, is there something on my face?’ But instead of glancing away in sheepish embarrassment or jolting out of a daze, Ben just stares back. There’s no emotion in his expression at all except intense focus.

The faint smile drops from Yasmina’s face as she stares back in surprise. Then, with ever-growing confusion and a fair amount of alarm, she realizes that Ben’s shoulders are rising, tense and hunched like he’s trying to make himself look bigger.

Like an animal.

Yasmina knows what it is to stare down a wild animal. She’s felt predatory eyes on her before and either bolted or turned to face the challenge. And that’s what it is, for some of the dinos- a challenge. Sometimes they’re testing your mettle, and standing your ground is enough to make them back off.

Ben must’ve learned that, too. And for whatever reason, he’s slipping into that behavior now.

It’s a ridiculous thought. This is Ben, her friend. Her very scrawny friend who can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and prefers a diet of berries and grubs. And yet, here he is, staring her down like she’s a particularly bold pack of Compies that’s decided to threaten him.

Yasmina gives a slow, deliberate blink. “Ben?” she calls. “What’s up?”

Just like that, the spell is broken. Ben gives a violent start, blinking and shaking his head. Yasmina sees confusion flash across his face, and then realization. And now the embarrassment comes, but it’s darkened by something like horror.

Without a word, Ben turns and darts away, scrambling down the ladder to the alcove underneath the house where Bumpy’s napping.

Yasmina lets him go, too baffled and unsettled to form words.

 ~*~

 Eventually, Yasmina tells Darius about it.

His expression is troubled as she runs through the incident. But in the end, there’s nothing more he can tell her than what she’s already worked out on her own. It’s just another side effect of the mindset Ben has adopted throughout his isolation. Those habits were what he relied on to survive, and it’ll take time for him to realize he doesn’t have to constantly be on edge now that he’s got a team to look out for him.

Though privately, Yasmina wonders if maybe the rest of them should take a page out of Ben’s book. Seems like he’s got a better handle on survival than they do.

(And then she thinks how Sammy would react, if Yasmina started acting like a wary animal around her, and she realizes Ben’s methods come with a price.)

 ~*~

 After Ben runs the Compies off for the first time, staring becomes a defense tactic.

It’s not always the Compies, who are slowly but surely learning not to mess with him. Sometimes it’s the Parasaurolophus in the river, or the lone Pteranodon perched in a tree, or the group of Edmontosauruses grazing on the hilltop. As soon as he feels their eyes on him, he knows his best chance is to stare back, to show that he’s willing to put up a fight, that chasing him wouldn’t be worth it.

Obviously, there are some dinosaurs that doesn’t work on. But if Ben can drastically cut down the amount of time spent running for his life by standing his ground, then he’ll take it.

All he has to do is not back down.

 ~*~

 Ben avoids Yasmina for the next few days.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn wakes up in the middle of the night with an unshakeable feeling that something is wrong.

Her bad feeling is confirmed when she gets a look at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she should’ve been woken up by Ben to take her night watch shift at least an hour ago. This practice, established by Darius months ago who insisted they should always have at least one person awake, has already become routine within the group. Brooklynn couldn’t sleep fully through the night if she tried.

Ben’s only just recently become a part of the routine. Immediately after his return, Darius thought it best just to let Ben settle in and get as much rest as he could, now that he had the security to do so, and everyone agreed. Ben had insisted he didn’t mind, but Darius stood firm, so it’s only been within the last few days that Ben took part.

But this is the first time he hasn’t woken Brooklynn up and her heart is in her throat as she rushes to the lookout point-

Only to find Ben sitting right where he’s supposed to be, looking out over their compound as a small candle burns next to him.

As soon as Brooklynn’s relief passes, it’s replaced with anger. “What are you doing?” she whispers furiously.

Ben, not at all surprised by her presence, gives her a sidelong look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You were supposed to wake me up, so I could do night watch.” Brooklynn struggles to keep her voice low, so as not to alert the others. “What gives?”

Ben shrugs. “I knew I wasn’t gonna sleep tonight, so I figured I’d just take the whole watch myself.”

“That’s not how this works,” Brooklynn hisses, crossing her arms. “Even if you can’t fall asleep- and I’ve totally been there- you have to lay down and close your eyes and rest. You need to rest.”

Ben breaks into an easy smile, but Brooklynn can see the annoyed creases at his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. I can-”

“Take care of yourself, I know,” Brooklynn interrupts, hating how frustrated she sounds but unable to help it. “But you don’t have to. We’re a team. We can take care of you too, alright?”

Ben stares at her for a moment. “I know that,” he says, sounding uncertain.

Brooklynn softens. When she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, he lets her. “Then… why?”

“I don’t know,” Ben admits. The muscles beneath Brooklynn’s hand are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. “I don’t know.”

They finish the night watch together.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn almost hates to bring it up to Darius.

Dude’s stressing almost nonstop about everything, all the time. And it really isn’t fair for him to be responsible for the rest of them, including Ben. But Darius is the only one who seems to have the… what’s it called, emotional intelligence, she supposes, to weigh in on the situation.

(Sammy is a close second, but her brand of caring is a little more touchy-feely, and this doesn’t seem like the right time for that.)

Darius is immediately worried, pointing out that Ben might accidentally fall asleep on watch if he keeps this up (something Brooklynn hadn’t even thought about). He promises to talk to Ben about it, and that’s that.

Brooklynn is only slightly relieved because she knows if Darius had a real fix for the problem, he would’ve said so. And if Darius doesn’t have a fix for it, maybe there isn’t one.

 ~*~

 Those first several nights, Ben doesn’t sleep at all.

And it’s not for lack of trying. But how can he sleep, when it’s pitch black and the jungle is full of unfamiliar sounds and he’s got no one but a baby Ankylosaurus by his side? He soon finds it’s even worse without Bumpy, though, because at least he trusted that Bumpy would wake up if there was any danger, as her senses are more powerful than his.

On his own, there’s no one to wake him up. So he has to stay up, and settle for catching short scattered naps throughout the day (if he can find a tree to hide up in).

It’s hard, but he’d rather be tired than dead.

 ~*~

 Ben is taken off night watch, but still ends up awake more often than not.

 ~*~

 Pyromaniac is a word no one ever expected to become synonymous with Ben, and yet here they are.

It’s one of the first things he always suggests as an answer to a problem; blow something up. Darius has a million reasons for them not to do that; they could get hurt, they could start a wildfire and burn the jungle down, they could attract unwanted attention from predators.

But that doesn’t stop Ben from cataloguing everything on the island that can be used as an explosive, memorizing their locations or creating hidden stashes. It doesn’t stop him from using the candles that came with the scavenged emergency kits. He’ll light them for no reason, just to watch the small flame flicker back and forth.

(Someday, months later, they’ll encounter a horrific hybrid dinosaur that is drawn to flames, and they’ll all think about how unsettling it is that Ben shares this trait, but none of them will say it.)

 ~*~

 It’s been one week since Bumpy left, and Ben is starting a fire.

Just a small one. It rained all day and he’s soaked to the bone, which normally wouldn’t be a huge problem considering the jungle climate. But now that it’s nighttime, there’s a chill in the air and he can’t afford to get sick. It’s risky, because at night he knows the light could draw attention to him, but his teeth are starting to chatter so there’s no helping it.

When a Stegosaurus stumbles upon him, baying low and angry at finding another creature in its territory, it’s the fire that makes it balk. Rumbling displeasure, it retreats back into the dark jungle. Ben quickly adds torches to his arsenal, using the rest of his shirt as tinder.

Fire is safety.

 ~*~

 Ben lights his candles in silence.

 ~*~

 “You can’t just run off like that,” Kenji says, deadly serious.

Ben scoffs. “I think you’re forgetting who defeated Toro,” he says with an easy smile.

“You’re not invincible, Ben!” Kenji snaps. The anger churning inside him is deceptively hollow, like it’s masking something else. “And I can’t lose you again.”

Ben isn’t smiling anymore. “You won’t,” he mutters, pushing past Kenji. “I can take care of myself, now. I don’t need you to play the hero and protect me.”

Kenji wants to protest that’s not what this is about, and that’s never been what this is about, but Ben is already gone.

 ~*~

 Ben still lives off berries and grubs.

 ~*~

 “… and so I was thinking, berries have seeds in them, right? So if we plant some, we’ll have our own berry bushes at the clubhouse. It’ll cut down our foraging time in the mornings for sure, and-”

“Uh, who are you talking to, Ben?”

Ben blinks at Yasmina’s voice, the girl having only just entered the room.

“Um, Bumpy?” he says, as if this should be obvious.

Yasmina glances out at the compound, where Bumpy is fast asleep and well out of earshot.

“… right.”

 ~*~

 Ben can’t sleep, even when he’s actually trying.

 ~*~

 “Alright,” Darius says, “so we need to get the T-Rex out of Main Street so we can do another sweep for supplies. Any ideas?”

Ben’s hand goes up.

“For the hundredth time, Ben, we aren’t going to feed the T-Rex to the Mosasaurus.”

Ben’s hand goes down.

 ~*~

 Ben feels more at home with Bumpy than the other campers.

 ~*~

 “You know we didn’t mean to leave you, right? We would’ve come back for you if we’d known…”

 ~*~

 Ben never talks about getting off the island.

 ~*~

 “You have to tell us where you’re going, Ben, you can’t just disappear-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps slipping away.

 ~*~

“Blowing stuff up isn’t the answer to everything!”

~*~

 Ben keeps saying he’s okay.

 ~*~

 “We’re a team, we have to work together-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps smiling.

 ~*~

 “Don’t you trust us to protect you?”

 ~*~

 Ben doesn’t know.

 ~*~

 Sammy finds Ben sitting on the roof of the clubhouse one day.

Her footsteps are loud and obvious as she approaches him. No chance of sneaking up. She knows he’s noticed her, from the subtle shift in his body. He doesn’t acknowledge her, though, continuing to stare off over the jungle and into the horizon, his skinny legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the edge.

The sun’s about to set, a few stars already twinkling in the purple edges of the sky. Sammy can remember another night, months ago, where Ben wasn’t here but everyone else was and they spotted bonfire smoke in the distance. She remembers the way her heart raced, the overwhelming joy and relief flooding through her. And yet, there had been undeniable heartache, because the realization that they’d made it out only meant it was more unfair that Ben hadn’t.

Sammy breaks the silence after a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

Ben doesn’t look at her, but she can see the easy smile that slants across his face, dying sunlight reflected in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Sammy sees the lie for what it is. None of them are okay. No one who’s been through what they have would be. But there’s a certain danger that comes with not being willing to admit it, and an even greater danger that comes with not being able to see it.

“Y’know, it’d be fine if you weren’t.”

Ben doesn’t answer.

Sammy sits with him until the sky turns dark.

 ~*~

 It’s the way he struggles to eat anything he hasn’t obtained by himself.

It’s the way he sometimes goes off on his own without telling anyone.

It’s the way he talks to himself when he thinks no one else is around.

It’s the way he takes any concern for his safety as a personal attack.

It’s the way he leaps at the chance to blow something up.

It’s the way he can stare silently for hours.

It’s the way he smiles a little too easily.

 ~*~

 It’s not jumping at every unexpected movement, or screaming awake from night terrors, or flinching away from the slightest touch. It’s not loud meltdowns or hysterical sobbing or uncontrollable fits of rage.

(Even though those will come, someday, when the island is just a memory.)

It’s the little things, that- once you notice them- keep piling up.

And suddenly, they don’t seem so little anymore.

 ~*~

[hetalia-reacts]

Can I request China and Japan with a catboy s/o (also I love your work your literally so talented❤️❤️)

I’m blushing thank you so much (о´∀`о)

China

Yao is in love love with the catboy at first sight

This man loves cute things, you have cat ears, a cat tail, and even act like a real cat at times, you are Yao’s dream come true

Offered to let you stay with him asap, no questions asked

He has no trouble relating to you or getting along with you either

Yao is well versed in cat and human body language so he can tell when his pets and cuddles are too much for you at the moment

And when he’s squealing way too loud into your ears

Does not buy you any cat toys in fear you’d be mad he’s treating you like a real cat

But if you asked for them he’ll get them asap

To be honest he has no idea when he started to fall in love with you for real and not just because you’re cute

Probably one of the times you came to cuddle him when he was upset, no questions asked, and let him play with your ears and tail for hours

Or when you would bring in small animals from outside and proudly show him the things you caught because you said they were ‘cute’ and thought he would like it

He really doesn’t like seeing field mice and snakes in your hands or in his house but he really doesn’t have the heart to tell you to stop

But when he does finally realize just how in love he is with you to be honest he freaks out

He doesn’t really know what to do, he likely hasn’t asked anything about your cat-human hybrid culture regarding dating and humans or if you even found him attractive in the slightest

Yao would still confess to you though, he wouldn’t be able to keep his feelings hidden for too long and would eventually blurt out how much he loves you

He does so in a way that scares the heck out of you though

You’d be chilling, napping, letting him pet you with a nice calm atmosphere around you both

And then BAM “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DATE ME ALREADY AIYAH”

Kinda sounds like he’s annoyed but he’s really just nervous

When you start dating he’s so sappy at first without realizing it

Always cooing at you and looking at you like you’re his world

It’s sickeningly sweet

Does he tell others he has a boyfriend? That he’s a catboy?

No, not unless you’ve told him he can tell

He won’t tell a soul about you or your true identity if you don’t want anyone to know

Yao is also great at keeping you a secret

However, if you do want him to tell others he tells Japan and Hong Kong about you

Japan gets to meet you first, mostly because he will NOT shut tf or leave Yao alone about having a catboy bf and wants proof

You will likely not like Japan at first because he’s going to poke and prod at you to make sure everything is real and then when he’s convinced he will not want to leave you alone because holy crap catboys are real!!

Yao will have to drag him away and threaten him to not come back

Hong Kong ends up visiting Yao and sees you without any disguise and that’s pretty much the end of that

He does do his fair share of poking and prodding, but Hong Kong gets bored of your cat traits easily and now you’re just like any other person to him

Yao’s kinda conflicted about that because thank god he isn’t trying to come over everyday like Japan but wtf you are clearly so adorable and cute??? How is Hong Kong so unaffected??

Japan

Kiku might die in the spot, or at least think he’s died and gone to heaven

How could he not think that when there is an adorable, real-life catboy in front of him?

Doesn’t question anything at first and just rolls with it

Offers to let you stay with him on the condition he gets to pet you whenever he wants

Kiku is really good at reading and getting along with you when you act more like a cat

Like he knows what violent tail swishing means

And when your eyes start getting all big he knows to gtfo of the way because it’s zooming time

But when you act more human/civil and start giving human body language Kiku is lost

He wants to see if the things he saw in mangas about catboy/girls work on you so be prepared for that

Totally buys you cat toys without asking

He really needs to know if you will abandon your human knowledge and play with the laser pointer and feather toy

For a man who is shy and reserved he does not hold back on you and seems to forget personal space is a thing

If anyone saw him with you they’d think he was possessed, sick, or a completely different person

Kiku 100% realizes he’s in love with you when he comes home from a world meeting completed exhausted and sees you sleeping peacefully in a patch of sunlight with a bunch of discarded manga at your side and he can feel his fatigue just melt away at the sight

That’s when he gets scared too because he realizes how much you mean to him and he cannot stand the thought of losing you

Kiku doesn’t know how to confess his love for you, he wants to say it, but he’s just too shy and scared

You’ll have to notice that he’s in love with you he doesn’t hide it well and confess yourself otherwise you’ll never start dating

Once you are though Kiku gets even more unusually clingy and loving

Always stroking your hair and giving kisses

It’s very strange but endearing

Does he tell people he has a boyfriend? That they’re a catboy?

No, but they find out anyways

Doesn’t matter if you want him to tell others or not, Kiku will not tell anyone

He’s kind of possessive and has the mindset that someone will try to take you from him if he tells them you’re a catboy

But he isn’t great at hiding it from his friends

Germany comes over unexpectedly to drop off something when Kiku isn’t there and sees you sleeping, tail swishing about

He does not mention it to Kiku and leaves before you notice him

Italy finds out because he saw Kiku’s lockscreen and of course its you and he wanted to meet you so bad that he came over the next day

Italy didn’t even knock, just busted the door down and had a field day with petting your head and messing with your tail

China finds out because Japan invited him over and simply forgot to tell you about it

So China ended up walking in, expecting Kiku’s normal empty house, only to be greeted by you

China wants to come over a lot after that day, but Kiku tells him no and threatens to attack him for you if he tries to play with your tail again

Greece finds out because he’s Greece and found Kiku shopping for cat toys and wanted to meet his new friends new cat asap

Pleasantly surprised to see you instead and tries to urge Kiku to let him take you home

It doesn’t work, but Greece does finally get to see a very aggravated Kiku Honda

Not very happy that you and him were found out because most of his friends want to hang out with you and they take all your attention away from him

He might be a little jealous….but only a little….

[katcadecascade]

Waiting for These Eyes to Open (ORV oneshot)

*spoilers up to chapter 226

Summary: 

He finds himself reaching the 73rd Demon Realm with an archangel, taking ownership of an industrial complex in Kim Dokja’s name, and confronting Asmodeus. Yoo Jonghyuk could not see himself ever doing this for anyone, mostly because no one else would get in this much trouble. 

But for some reason he did this all. All to see Kim Dokja again. And that rat bastard is sleeping. This is all exhausting to think. Thankfully, there’s a chair nearby.

If given the chance, Yoo Jonghyuk would avoid the Demon Realm as much as possible. Ever since Kim Dokja became his companion, those chances were never in his sight.

After the confrontation with Asmodeus, an encounter that literally began fracturing Yoo Jonghyuk’s body, it took a while to recover and search for Kim Dokja.

That rat bastard was all the way over in the other Industrial Complex, a place using his name much to the annoyance of Yoo Jonghyuk. Then to top it off, Kim Dokja wasn’t even awake when he finally found him.

In the back room of a clock workshop, Kim Dokja is lying in a spare bed covered in story packs. The sight almost makes Yoo Jonghyuk wince. He is not an expert at story packs but he knows it will be disastrous if a story or more are not compatible with the patient.

The woman treating him, Aileen Makerfield, was hesitant and wary about letting Yoo Jonghyuk see the patient while she injects the day’s dose of story.

“Kim Dokja told me to let him die for an hour,” she grumbled. Her steady hands carefully wrapped new bandages around an arm. Story fragments, sentences really, had spilled out from an open gash. “Now he needs sleep for days.”

It’s not often Yoo Jonghyuk stays by someone’s side when they’re recovering. It almost feels like a clique to be sitting by a sleeping Kim Dokja.

Actually, it feels utterly strange to see Kim Dokja with his eyes closed for more than two seconds.

The last time he watched Kim Dokja close his eyes is when he first became the Demon King of Salvation and died in Yoo Jonghyuk’s arms.

Yoo Jonghyuk is not sure if he feels relief to see Kim Dokja’s current state. The sickly paleness, the various tubes injected into his veins, the heartbeat monitory is louder than the little breaths Kim Dokja takes in. He can barely see the slow rise and fall of his chest, the only movement of the sleeping man.

It’s eerily to see his eyes shut when Yoo Jonghyuk expects those long eyelashes to flutter and see the vast emotions play out in Kim Dokja’s dark eyes.

So far, nothing in his three regression rounds compare to Kim Dokja’s eyes. It’s filled with something Yoo Jonghyuk cannot describe.

“At first I thought he was a smart man, a hero even.”

He nearly forgot Aileen was still here. She’s adjusting the placements of story pack but her attention flickers to him.

“Then he begins to do crazy, risky plans,” Aileen said in a tone of a disapproving mother. “Kim Dokja did it all with cool composure.”

“That is Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk confirmed.

Aileen shook her head, “He wasn’t like that when the other Demon King entered the realm.”

Yoo Jonghyuk excused, “It was Asmodeus.”

She raised an eyebrow and in that moment, Aileen looked too similar to Han Sooyoung as she continued, “He was frantic, desperately needed to get to the Gilobat Industrial Complex. I think he even tried to bargain with the constellations too before he decided on this plan.”

He refuses to break eye contact and defiantly says, “All his plans involve him dying.”

That gets Aileen gob smacked, squinting at him and then to her patient. She’s acting as if they’re both madmen and honestly that cannot be blamed.

While the story expert is caught off guard, Yoo Jonghyuk returns to staring at Kim Dokja, remembering all the times he sacrificed himself for the party.

It’s frustratingly an occurring pattern. This man does the same thing over and over again and expects the results to be the same.

Kim Dokja expects his friends to be alive and yes, he’s accurate on that part but it is Yoo Jonghyuk who has to deal with the aftermath.

Those individuals have all soften their emotions for this one man who has left them behind with the measly promise of his return. Annoyingly, they wait.

Yoo Jonghyuk, on the other hand, is impatient.

And so he finds himself reaching the 73rd Demon Realm with an archangel, a terrible idea; taking ownership of an industrial complex in Kim Dokja’s name, because Kim Dokja is not the only one who steals names; and confronting Asmodues, the reason Yoo Jonghyuk regressed into the third round.

Yoo Jonghyuk could not see himself ever doing this for anyone, mostly because no one else would get in this much trouble. But for some reason he did this all.

All to see Kim Dokja again.

And that rat bastard is sleeping.

This is all exhausting to think. Thankfully, there’s a chair nearby.

“He’s not waking up soon,” Aileen has gather up her tools and prepares to leave, “Are you sure you want to stay?”

Without hesitation, Yoo Jonghyuk nods.

“I’ll get you some tea,” she offers with a smile. “Keep an eye on him.”

As she leaves, Yoo Jonghyuk feels impulsive.

The stillness and paleness in Kim Dokja’s face has been bothering him since he entered the room. Now with no audience, aside from the constellations unfortunately, Yoo Jonghyuk hovers a hand over Kim Dokja.

He ignores the slight shake in his hand right before his fingers touch the softness of Kim Dokja’s cheeks. Yoo Jonghyuk expected the skin to feel clammy or cold, instead the unconscious man is warm.

A tiny part of Yoo Jonghyuk relaxes, more so when he begins to trace shapeless figures between the edge of Kim Dokja’s closed eyes and his chin. He carefully pinches a stray eyelash and Yoo Jonghyuk freezes when the eye moves underneath its lid.

Then awkwardly, Yoo Jonghyuk retracts his hand when the sleeping eyes flutter open. For a moment, his heart stops beating as Kim Dokja tilts his head, slowly blinking as the corner of his pink lips form a small smile.

“My protagonist,” Kim Dokja breathes softly, as if painting on silk.

Yoo Jonghyuk ignores the weird noise his throat makes and quickly examines Kim Dokja. He spots the story pack Aileen was securing into the canteen.

It’s labeled Vulnerability of a Cursed Dreamer.

A memory pops up in Yoo Jonghyuk’s brain. It’s of Yoo Mia demanding him to read her a bed time story. It was Sleeping Beauty.

“Shut your mouth Kim Dokja.”

Doing the opposite, he continued, “My Supreme King.”

“Kim Dokja,” he warns lowly.

A tiny huff of air exits Kim Dokja, barely qualifying as a laugh as he says, “My Yoo Jonghyuk.”

Those words tug onto something inside Yoo Jonghyuk. The tone of voice alone shakes Yoo Jonghyuk’s core because has never heard his name spoken with so much tenderness.

Still surprising him, Kim Dokja awed, “You’re not dead.”

“Bastard, you don’t get to say that,” Yoo Jonghyuk instantly shot.

A hot boiling frustration always stews inside him, reserved to those deserving of his fury. His rage is snuffed when Kim Dokja’s smile brightens.

The frustration is back when Kim Dokja attempts to sit up.

“Don’t get up,” he orders, placing a hand at Kim Dokja’s collarbone.

Yoo Jonghyuk is too familiar with feeling the skin here, where he can easily slide up to grasp the neck. This is a new body so there is no evidence of times where he gripped Kim Dokja by the neck and tossed him into oblivion.

This time though, Yoo Jonghyuk secures Kim Dokja in place, making sure he won’t die here.

“I’m happy that you didn’t regress.”

“Of course you are.”

The last time he thought about regressing was at the eighth scenario, the Ultimate Sacrifice. It was the ultimatum and it made sense for him to regress up until Kim Dokja convinced him not to. Kim Dokja had said that this world line should be worth protecting.

He once believed early on, if he regresses, there could be a better chance in the next round. Even now after Kim Dokja’s talk, Yoo Jonghyuk had the thought that maybe he could use the knowledge in this round and be better in the fourth round.

Maybe Yoo Jonghyuk can stop Kim Dokja from dying so much in the fourth round.

Kim Dokja interrupts his thoughts, as he always does, and gives off the suspicious that he can actually read Yoo Jonghyuk’s mind.

“I don’t know what will happen to me if you regress.”

He blinks. Remaining calm, Yoo Jonghyuk states, “You were in the next subway car.”

Kim Dokja shakes his head, it jostles a story pack on his shoulder and Yoo Jonghyuk reaches over to secure it back on.

“It’s not that simple, it can’t be. It is never simple for me.” A cloudy gaze goes over his eyes, full of something Yoo Jonghyuk wants to describe but cannot for the life of him. Mirroring that desperation, Kim Dokja frowns, “I want this. I want to reach the end of this story.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Would you leave me, Yoo Jonghyuk?”

It’s an unexpected question and yet this has been asked before.

Lee Seolhwa, his wife in the previous regression round, worried about his attribute.

Both she and Kim Dokja wondered about his mindset, as if regressing was a drug he’s addicted to and not a necessary last resort.

Previously, he wondered why Lee Seolhwa asked because by the next round she had forgotten who he was. Hell, she poisoned him in this round because he was careless around someone who became important to him.

Now applying that situation with Kim Dokja is a headache.

“…a regression without you sounds tempting.”

“Be honest.”

Again, Yoo Jonghyuk cannot read the emotion in Kim Dokja’ eyes. If he had to guess there is a bit of terror but that should be preposterous. Never before has Kim Dokja ever been scared of him.

Yet, Yoo Jonghyuk has an ache in his chest at the idea of Kim Dokja in fear. Be it fear of Yoo Jonghyuk or for him, it is an uneasy feeling.

It truly means that Kim Dokja puts so much trust into Yoo Jonghyuk.

He’s used to this responsibility, ignores it mostly because it is from the masses and feels its weight in his bones. But it is different coming from Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja who knows him and his future, who knows the depths of Yoo Jonghyuk and the rest of the party. Kim Dokja who became a constellation, became a Demon King, and became Yoo Jonghyuk’s companion.

In life and death, Yoo Jonghyuk cannot imagine ever leaving Kim Dokja’s side.

With raw honesty, Yoo Jonghyuk says, “If there is a chance that I will lose you, I will not regress Kim Dokja.”

“Yoo Jonghyuk,” he smiles so sweet, “you’re a cool protagonist.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, not becomes this is touching but because Yoo Jonghyuk is keeping together his restraint to not throttle Kim Dokja’s neck.

It is very tempting due to how stupid Kim Dokja is.

Yoo Jonghyuk pinches the bridge of his nose, composing himself into civility. It is a tall order when it comes to moments like this. He places his hands on his lap to berate this idiot when something catches his eyes.

The story pack on Kim Dokja’ shoulder. It is labeled Loose Cognition of a Bad Luck Charm.

Does that mean…

He blinks a few times, processing and in that silence, Kim Dokja has closed his eyes and breaths slowly.

Sighing, Yoo Jonghyuk strokes hair away from Kim Dokja’s face. “Sleep and forget this conversation.”

For the next two peaceful days, Yoo Jonghyuk waits for his companion to walk up. He is half-worried if Kim Dokja remembers what they discussed. His paranoia is for naught at the end of the week when he meets Kim Dokja’s eyes.

They are wide and shocked and happy and if Yoo Jonghyuk could read his mind, he’d bet Kim Dokja is thinking, ‘You are alive.’

Bastard, Yoo Jonghyuk thinks as they catch up and at the end of it, he tells him, “Let’s go back to Earth, Kim Dokja.”

[moonscriptsx]

When We Were Young (M)

SUMMARY: It’s been months since the argument and all Seokjin wants is for you to come back home to him.

GENRE/WARNINGS: Non-Idol!AU, Exes  → Lovers!AU; the majority is angst filled with a smutty ending (includes: oral (fem receiving, and low key makeup sex?). Namjoon (secretly) plays matchmaker, Jin is somewhat of a soft dom. Use of italics denotes flashback.

WORDS: 6.6k.

A/N: This is also a repost from the vault; the first Jin fic I ever wrote. I’m still soft for this man.

Kim Seokjin always told himself to live life to the fullest; he always had the mindset that everything happened for a reason and to just let nature run its course, that the universe will figure it all out for him. He believed in fate, he believed that life shouldn't be thought as regretful, instead you should embrace the bad things that happened in the past and use it to become stronger – but that was before. Before he experienced love for the first time, before he found the one person he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. That was before the one person he lost had been the one person he cared about most; you. His colorful life had turned monochrome, the vibrant hues of the exceptional lights that always shone around you were gone. Black, white, and gray were the colors that illuminated his life now, the dull colors taking a toll on the man wherever he went.

It had been an argument that ended it all – a stupid argument that he constantly replayed over and over again in his mind every night before he went to sleep. Being in the same bed that you had been in, the empty space beside him constantly taunting him, mocking his loneliness. He was a wreck, a complete utter wreck, and he was convinced that he was going to die alone. Nobody would ever be able to take your place, nobody could ever compare to you – nobody could ever make him feel the way you did. So he locked himself out, shutting himself off from his friends, co workers, even family. He didn't think that he deserved to be happy anymore, guilt seeping through every pore of his body, so he cut off anything that made him even the slightest bit happy. But in the end, he failed.

So now he's trying to move on, trying to fix the friendships he had broken off when he shut himself out, and he's slowly beginning to make progress. Namjoon had taken him out for drinks a few times, the only person he can genuinely call a best friend was getting married soon and he had wanted to go out to celebrate. While the others were shoving drink after drink down their throats, Jin sat back and watched them with a dull smile on his face, the man wishing he could be as lively and rambunctious as the others, but the painful twinge in his heart is too much. As hard as he tried, he couldn't shake the loneliness that came with the heartbreak, he couldn't shake the unhappiness that filled his body. So instead he wallows in the misery consuming him, not tossing back drinks to get rid of the feeling but tossing them back as he succumbs to the sorrow. Because in his mind, he doesn't deserve to be happy.

In his mind, how can one be happy when they've lost that one person who made them feel the most alive?

Sweat beaded at the man's hairline as he hurriedly walked down the street, eyes wide as he frantically wove around people. He was late, fifteen minutes to be exact, and he knew that this was going to be the last straw with his boss. His briefcase was tightly clutched in one hand while he held his coffee in the other, the hot liquid splashing over his hand as he all but sprints across the street. Swearing under his breath he makes a sharp right to turn down the street when his chest collides against someone else's, both his briefcase and his coffee falling out of his hand from the collision. Widening his eyes, Seokjin watches as his coffee spills over the expensive looking blazer, his mouth falling open as he immediately bursts into an apology.

"I'm so sorry!" He says, hands shaking in a frantic motion as he helps you up from the ground. He can sense your frustration, but you cover it up with a smile as you shake her head at him.

"It's alright," you dismiss, taking his hand. Gently he lifts you to your feet, Jin's face completely red as he stares down at the brown stain covering your electric blue blazer.

"It's not alright," he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he sighs. "Your blazer is ruined."

You laugh an almost bell-like sound, and Jin swears that there was nothing more beautiful than the sound, before you're shrugging your shoulders.

"It's really not a big deal," you console him. "I've had this thing for years. It's about time I got a new one, anyways."

Seokjin's still not convinced, his lips pursed as he eyes the stain. You can sense his remorse, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you scan his features.  You'd be lying if you said he wasn't a handsome man; with honey brown hair, bee-stung lips that looked entirely too kissable, and broad shoulders he was quite the looker. Your thoughts were going completely against your good judgment – because really, who takes chances with strangers they bump into on the street – but something in your heart was telling you not to let this guy go. So instead of walking away and forgetting about the encounter, your gaze meets his and you tilt your head as you smirk at him.

"You know," you raise an eyebrow. "If you really want to make it up to me... You can buy me a new blazer and we'll call it even?"

Seokjin blanches, his mouth falling open at your words. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasn't a flat out invitation for the two of you to meet up again – but he didn't mind. Mirroring your smirk he crosses his arms over his chest, chuckling quietly.

"Are you sure you want a complete stranger coming with you to pick out a blazer? For all you know I could be a murderer." Shrugging your shoulders, you playfully eye him up and down before you giggle.

"You look harmless to me," you retort, and Jin laughs.

"Alright, if you insist," he muses. "I’m Seokjin, by the way."

He holds a hand out, which you graciously shake, as you grin at him.

"(Y/N)."

"Rise and shine, sleepy head!"

Groaning at the disturbance, Jin swats at the voice as he rolls over in bed. His hands reach out to blindly grab his pillow and place it over his head, muffling the noises echoing around his room. He can faintly hear the sound of the curtains being pulled back before he felt a grip on his comforter, another groan escaping him as he tries to fight the hold that was on his blanket. He loses the fight quickly, both his comforter and pillow being torn out of his grasp and he's turning to see the grinning face of Namjoon. Dimples protrude on the man's cheeks as he sprawls on Jin's body, a weak attempt at trying to get his friend out of bed.

"Namjoon," Jin groans, trying to push the younger away from him. "Get out!"

Namjoon merely laughs, the man regaining his balance as he straightens back up on his feet. His gaze is locked on his friend, the grin never faltering off of his face as he tilts his head in the direction of the window.

"Come on, man," he chides. "It's a beautiful day outside. Get the hell out of bed."

Jin grumbles and reluctantly sits up, his back pressing softly against the headboard as he crosses his arms over his chest. Light is flooding the bedroom, the warm rays of the sun illuminating the hardwood floors and shining down on the piles of clothes cluttered around the room. Shame fills the man's body then, his gaze falling back on his friend as he looks at him in confusion.

"How did you even manage to get in here?" He asks, and Namjoon snickers.

"You really shouldn't keep your spare key under the pot outside," he comments, and Jin rolls his eyes. "That's way too predictable, man."

Scoffing, Seokjin slumps back down, his back now pressing against the soft cushioning of the bed as he stares up at the ceiling. His hand idly reaches out, fingertips tracing the empty side of the bed as a heavy sigh escapes his lips. Namjoon doesn't miss his friend's actions, a deep frown forming on his face as he peers down at the brunette.

"You alright?" Jin looks up, the concern on his friend's face unmissable, and he shrugs.

"Truthfully?" He purses his lips. "Not really."

The concern only grows as Namjoon perches himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes flashing worriedly as he looks at Jin. The happy go lucky guy he had met so long ago in high school was gone, his happiness completely replaced by heartbreak and loneliness. Namjoon knew how much of a toll the break up had taken on his friend and he would be lying if he said he wasn't worried, but he also had an inkling that this was only a rough patch in the relationship. Although it had been several months since the two of you had spoken to one another, Namjoon knew deep down that it was meant to be. After spending countless nights and days with the two of you, the man knew well enough that you and Jin were made for each other – so he took matters into his own hands. Only, Jin didn't know about it.

Smirking to himself, Namjoon snaps out of his thoughts as he pats his friend's leg before standing up from the bed.

"You're still coming to my wedding, right?" He asks, and Jin nods, confusion dancing across his face as he looks at the blonde.

"Of course," he states. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Smiling, Namjoon nods.

"Good," he acknowledges. Turning on his heel, he calls out to his friend before walking out of the bedroom. "Now get off of your lazy ass and come help me pick out a tux."

"(Y/N), I really don't think this is a good idea..."

Jin trails off as you push him into the store, a grin on your face when you're met with different variations of tuxedos. Seokjin had been asked to be one of the groomsmen for his friend Yoongi and with the wedding coming up in only two days, you had convinced Jin to let you help him pick out one – much to his dismay. He had originally opted to go by himself, the man wanting to be in and out of the store quickly, but now with you tagging along he knew you were going to make him try on different ones.

Grumbling quietly, Jin swears under his breath as he begrudgingly follows you into the store. The two of you are met with one of the workers, a beaming smile on his face as he leads the two of you towards the racks. It doesn't take long for Jin (or rather you) to pick out a couple of choices before your boyfriend is being pushed towards the changing rooms. You can't help but chuckle as you watch him give you a dirty look as he slides the curtain back and walks into the dressing room, a grin on your face as you plop comfortably down onto the velvet chair.

The first one Jin tries on is black pinstriped, the cuffs way too long and the pants almost dragging on the ground. The clerk who helped you pick out a few earlier had told you that they can always be tailored to fit but, in all honesty, it wasn't the right choice. Between the design of the tux and the tall stature of Jin, he looked like the human version of Jack Skellington, the mental image sending you into a fit of giggles as you cover your mouth. You manage to catch Jin shooting you another dirty look as he trudges back to the fitting area. Tux after tux and there's still no luck, every suit seemingly getting worse and worse. Jin was just about to give up before he gets to the last one, and the moment he steps out of the changing room, your breath catches in your throat.

It was simple; black straight legged pants, black jacket, white button up shirt with a black bow tie. It hugged his broad stature in a way that made you want to rip the damned thing off of him, your legs crossing when you feel heat begin to pool in your body. Standing in the center of the room, Jin holds his arms out, silently asking 'is this okay?' before you're pushing yourself off of the chair and walking over to him. Placing your hands on his forearms, you smirk up at him as you lean into his body.

"You look good," you murmur, and Jin sighs a breath of relief.

"Thank god," he mutters. His gaze falls on yours, and he sucks in a harsh breath when he notices the look in your eyes; the hunger, the need – he's biting his lip as he feels you push him backwards, his feet dragging along the carpet as you drag him back into the dressing room.

Once the curtain is pulled forward, you're pouncing on him. Lips fuse together in a desperate haste, your hands flying to his hair as Jin swings you around to press you against the wall of the changing room. His knee presses between yours, the friction making you moan quietly into his mouth as you drag your nails across the back of his neck, the action making Jin shiver as he pulls away to breathe.

"What brought this on?" He asks breathily, and you smirk. Tugging on his suit jacket, you slide it down his shoulders and let it fall into a heap on the floor as you grip the back of his neck.

"You look fucking hot in a suit."

With that, your lips are back on his and he's pressing you up roughly against the wall, the two of you melting into one another.

With a tight grip on his wine glass, Seokjin trudges through the crowded dance floor before he's plopping down onto one of the chairs on the other side of the room, a frown on his lips as he scans the room. Various groups of couples littered the dance floor, each pair swaying in different directions as a slow song echoes from the speakers. Namjoon and his wife are in the center of the floor, both looking into each other's eyes, and Jin can't help but smile as he watches his friend lean in to kiss his bride, the display of affection making his heart twinge painfully. Sighing heavily he lifts his glass to his lips and drinks the rest of the liquid in his glass, downing it in seconds before he's up and walking towards the bar to get more.

Weaving in and out of the way so he can get past people, Jin strides towards the bar with big steps. He just manages to get there when he bumps into someone, their drink colliding with his white button down shirt and spilling red liquid over the material. A collective sigh from both the person and Jin sound and apologies are immediately being strewn from both of their mouths.

"I'm so sorry!"

"It's my fault, I should've watched where I was going!"

Time seems to stop then, Jin's gaze falling on a familiar face. He can feel a lump form in his throat as his eyes run over every curve and feature of your face, his heart clenching painfully as he sees your face harden. He watches as you clench your jaw, your head turning away from him as you look anywhere but at him. You were just as beautiful as he remembered; from head to toe you were like a dream, and Jin wasn't sure if he was awake or not. But when you finally tilt your head back to look at him and your eyes meet his, he's sure he's awake. The playful glint that usually resided in your eyes was gone, instead he can see the faint sight of tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as you suck in a breath.

"(Y/N)," he breathes out, and he watches as your eyes flutter shut. He wants to reach out, wants to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses the tears away – but he can't. Not after he hurt you.

"I'm sorry I spilled wine on your shirt," you mutter and Jin wouldn't have understood a word of it if his gaze hadn't dropped to your lips, eyes trained on the flesh he wanted to feel so badly. You smile sadly at him, your body turning to walk away from him when you feel his hand grab your arm.

Electric shocks run through you, your head snapping back to look at him. His eyes are wide, lips parted, and he's shaking his head as his grip tightens on your arm. You can already feel the tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you suck in a harsh breath, trying to break free from his grasp. It hurts – it hurts too much to see him, to face the man who you were still so very much in love with. All of the memories you had with him flooded back to your mind; all of the kisses you shared, all of the 'I love you's' exchanged... They all came towards you at full force and before you knew it, you were banging at his chest as you tried to push him away from you. Tears are breaking through the barrier as they run down your cheeks, your body completely collapsing against his as he takes you out of the room.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Your voice is shrill as you slam the door behind you, hot on Jin's trail as you watch him angrily toss his jacket onto the bed. Turning around to face you, you watch as he glowered at you, eyes narrowing into a glare.

"What's my problem?" He asks, stalking towards you. "You're going around telling everyone we're getting married when, clearly, we're not!"

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you slip off your heels and kick them into the closet.

"Oh, please!" You shout, turning back to face him. "You act like I purposefully caught the bouquet! It's not like I fought to get the front, Jin. It just flew into my hands!"

Sighing, Jin runs a frustrated hand through his hair as he avoids your gaze. You watch as he paces the room, your gaze following his every moment. He's kicking things out of the way, hands clenched tightly at his sides as he glowered at you. It was then a dark thought flows through your mind, hurt flashing across your features as you cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall.

"What's so bad about it anyway?" You ask quietly, your gaze focused on him. "It's just marriage."

Jin stops short, his head snapping to look over at you as his mouth falls open.

"Are you kidding me?" He asks, flabbergasted. "It's just marriage?"

You shrug, your face void of any emotion.

"I don't understand what the big idea is! It's just marri--"

"I don't want to get married!"

Silence falls over the two of you then, Jin's eyes widening as the words slip out of his mouth. You feel your heart sink into your stomach, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your face falls. Immediately you're squeezing your eyes shut, a lone tear rolling down your cheek as you sharply inhale a breath, your hands shaking by your sides before you finally re open your eyes and settle your watery gaze on Jin.

"Wh—what?"

Shaking his head, he immediately makes a move to come near you when you hold your hand up, clenching your jaw as you step away from him.

"Don't you dare," you warn. "You said you didn't want to get married..."

"I didn't mean it!" He denies, vehemently. "It slipped out!"

You scoff, wiping furiously at your tears.

"But you were still thinking it, Jin."

Fearfully he watches as you grab your bag from the closet, his body immediately stepping in front of you to halt your movements as he grabs your forearms.

"Where are you going?" He asks, and you look up at him. Your eyes are red, makeup completely smeared down your cheeks, and you push him away from you as you walk out of the bedroom, Jin hot on your trail. "(Y/N)!"

A fresh batch of tears form as you stomp towards the front door, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder. Just as your hand reaches for the handle of the door, Jin's whirling you around and pulling you into him, his arms wounding tightly around your waist as he presses you to him.

"Baby, please," he begs, his voice breaking as tears well up in his own eyes. "Please – don't leave me."

You're completely sobbing now, your shoulders shaking as you pry yourself from his grip.

"What's the point?!" You yell, throwing your hands up in the air. "We've been together for almost four years – four fucking years, Jin! You obviously don't want a life with me, so what's the point in staying in this relationship when it's clearly going nowhere?!"

By this point Jin's got tears rolling down his face, his head shaking furiously as he tries to grab at you again before you swat his hands away. Gripping the door handle once more, you wrench it open and storm out, slamming the door behind you.

"(Y/N)!"

Jin's broken shout follows you down the hallway, sobs wracking both yours and his chest; the only sound that can be heard is your sobs in the confined space of the elevator and Jin's wails coming from behind the apartment door, both of you completely broken down in the aftermath.

All of the hurt, all of the pent up emotions you had from the memory was breaking through their seals, the feelings coming towards you like a tidal wave. It's an indescribable pain, your chest and heart twinging in a way that makes you clutch your hands to your chest as you let the sobs wrack your body. You can hear Jin murmur words to you but you can barely understand him over your sobs, your hands clutching at his shirt. Soft lips are peppering kisses along your face, Jin kissing away the tears as he fights back his own batch from falling down his face.

"(Y/N)," he whispers, cradling your face in his hands. His nose gently brushes yours as he lifts your head so you can look at him through your blurry vision. "Talk to me, beautiful."

Hiccups are emitting past your lips as your sobs slowly start to falter, the aching in your chest seemingly growing tighter as your gaze falls on him. Sucking in a harsh breath, you try to collect yourself before you're finally responding.

"I should hate you," you murmur, and Jin stiffens. "You hurt me, Jin. I spent countless nights crying myself to sleep, wishing that I could have at least some kind of closure with you... Something to give me motivation to move on, but there wasn't any. There were so many times I wanted to call you up and apologize for acting the way that I did but every time I picked up the phone to dial your number, I'd just break down."

Seokjin can feel his heart clench, the utter hurt he can hear in your voice makes him want to collapse on the ground and fall at your feet, the man ready to beg for forgiveness. He watches as you wipe at your face, dried trails of mascara coating your cheeks as you sigh.

"I don't know how you feel," you continue, your gaze falling to the ground. "You probably hate me – which I don't blame you if you do, I left and never came back – but I just want you to know that I'm sorry..." Your voice breaks then, a fresh batch of tears leaking in the corners of your eyes. "I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry that I hurt you – and I'm sorry that I'm still in love with you."

Sucking in a harsh breath, Jin's eyes widen at your words. He can feel his heart speed up in his chest, the beating echoing loudly in his ears as he takes a cautious step towards you.

"What did you just say?" He asks, and your face falls as you stare at him in confusion.

"That I'm sorry?" Jin shakes his head, his hand twitching by his side as he aches to grab you.

"No – after that."

"That I still love you?"

His stomach does flips then, the tears that threatened to spill over from before were completely flowing down his cheeks now as he reaches forward to grab you. Wordlessly he's pulling your face up to his as he leans down, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate kiss. The mixture between the taste of his mouth and his tears fills your mouth and you're whimpering against him as your hands clutch his shirt, fingers grasping the material as you hold him tightly to you, afraid that he'll disappear if you let him go. His tongue mingles with yours, the wet muscle tangling with yours as the two of you kiss. Your breath is caught in your throat as Jin's hands slide down the curve of your waist, fingers gripping the material of your dress as he pulls you flush against his body.

"I should be the one apologizing," he breathes, drawing back slightly as he looks down at you with a watery gaze. "God, (Y/N), I can't tell you how many times I've laid in bed at night just staring at your space in the bed just wishing that you were laying there next to me. I'm the one who fucked up, I'm the one who made you leave."

The chilly night air whips around the two of you as you stand in the courtyard, both of you completely enveloped in one another as Jin shakily breathes.

"I didn't mean what I said. The moment you walked out of that door I knew – I knew that you were the only one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I've spent these last few months blaming myself for letting the one person who I loved more than anything go and I refused to be happy. God, I fucking love you. I love you so much that I honestly don't know how I survived the days and nights without you. Everything reminded me of you; the leftover clothes in the closet, the smell of your perfume on the pillow... You're the one, (Y/N). I want you --"

Jin's words are cut off when you tug on his shirt, your fingers pulling him down so that you can crash your lips against his. Your hands fall from his shirt so they can lift up to sink in his hair, fingers tugging at his honey brown tresses as your lips move fervently against his. His hands are clutching your waist tightly, his head tilting as he deepens the kiss, tongues mingling together as the two of you sigh against one another's lips.

"Take me home," you murmur into his mouth, and Jin hums before he pulls away.

"Home?" He asks quietly, and you smile.

"Take me home," you repeat. "With you."

Lips are fused together the moment the door shuts behind the two of you, your hands flying to his hair as he traps you between his body and the wall. Feverish kisses are being exchanged as Jin shrugs out of his suit jacket, the material falling carelessly to the floor as he grips the back of your thighs. Effortlessly he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, before he's carrying you towards the bedroom. Your fingers are raking through his hair as he places you softly onto the soft cushion of the bed, your body sliding up before your head meets with the pillow, Jin's lips never leaving yours as he crawls on top of you. His hands glide along the curves of your body, fingers gripping the zipper on the side of your dress before he's dragging it down slowly, your undergarment clad body being revealed to him as your dress falls to a heap on the ground.

He draws back from your mouth then, his gaze falling on your body as he takes you in. Every beautiful curve and outline has him licking his lips in anticipation, love overflowing through him as the tips of his fingers softly glide along your bare flesh. Goosebumps flare on your skin when you feel him gently trace the outline of your breast, his head leaning down so he can attach his lips to the curve of your breast, trailing kisses down the valley between your breasts as he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. The moment your chest is free from their confinements, Jin's mouth attaches to the mound, tongue and teeth clamping down on the sensitive nipple as he tugs at it, sucking harshly and drawing a breath from the back of your throat. Your hands are tangled in his honey brown locks, fingers tugging and pulling at the tresses as you moan wantonly. The sound of your moan stirs something in Jin's slacks and you can feel the outline of his hardening cock against your bare thigh, the friction making you moan once more. Your reaction makes Jin smirk against your breasts, his head lifting to look up at you as he slithers down your body.

"You're so beautiful," he says, earnestly. His gaze is locked on yours and you can see the love that fills his eyes, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip when you feel his hands snake underneath the hem of your panties. He's gripping the material before sliding it down your legs, your bare core being on display for him and he can't help but moan at the sight.

From where he was, he can see the glistening of wetness coating your folds, the sight making his cock harden even more as he drags the tip of his finger along your core. The feeling alone makes you mewl, your hips rising from the bed as you silently plead for more, Jin sensing your need immediately. Leaning forward he's attaching his lips to your clit just as he pushes two fingers inside of you, the friction of him making your hips roll into his face as he lewdly sucks on your sensitive bud. Your fingers are twisted in his hair, tugging and pushing him closer to your core, the man humming against you as the pressure between your legs grows.

"Seokjin," you whimper, causing him to hum once more.

Jin was on a mission, his tongue lazily lapping against your clit as he scissors the two digits inside of you, twisting and turning them before they brush against a spot that makes your hips buck up into him, your pussy rolling against his face as his free hand grips your thigh. Both of your legs are thrown over his shoulder, his tongue lolling against your clit as he brushes his fingers against your sweet spot once more, moaning against your core when he feels you clench around his fingers. He's able to add one more finger, his digits stretching you in a way that makes your toes curl and your back arch off of the bed, his tongue faintly spelling out the name 'Seokjin' in Hangul. You're panting now, the coil in your stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue, and you feel your release wash over you in a slow wave. Flashes of white illuminate behind your closed lids, Jin's name falling from your lips in a broken mantra as his fingers still slide in and out of you, milking your release as you come down from your high.

You're still panting heavily when Jin's mouth finally latches off of your clit, his digits slipping into his mouth as he sucks lewdly, licking off the residue of your release coating his fingers. He's humming quietly, eyes closing as he relishes in the taste of you, before his mouth is on yours. In a desperate haste you're clawing at his shirt, mindlessly ripping it open and listening as the buttons fly everywhere – but you don't care. Sliding the now ripped material off his shoulders, you grip his bare flesh before you roll over, flipping your positions, your legs on either side of him as you straddle his waist. Leaning over to his nightstand, you reach into the drawer where you know the condoms are stored. Turning back towards him once you grabbed the foil, you kiss your way down the planes of his chest, your lips suckling into his skin as you shamelessly mark him. Nimble fingers fumble with his slacks as you blindly push the material down his legs, his boxers soon following, and you glance down to see the flushed head of his cock. Rolling your tongue over your lips, you gently take it in your hands and slide the condom onto him, Jin moaning at the contact, before you're lining yourself up with him.

Lifting your hips up, you let yourself sink down on him, a moan of relief falling from both yours and Jin's mouth as he fills you up. His cock stretches you deliciously, the feeling of your tight walls encasing him making the friction between your bodies feel better than it ever has before. Slowly you start to move your hips, your body rising and falling on top of him as you place your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He's bucking up to meet your thrusts, one hand coming up to rest on your breast while the other tangles in your hair, pulling you down to meet his mouth. Clashes of tongues and teeth are happening as the two of you kiss messily, your hips bouncing harshly against his as you roll into him. Jin moans against your mouth, his hand squeezing your breast as he bites down harshly on your bottom lip, the action making you mewl into your mouth as his hips brush up into yours, his cock hitting a spot that makes you cry out.

Dropping his grip from your breast, Jin places his hands on your waist before he's flipping the two of you, the position changing once again. He's hovering you once more, his cock delving back inside of you as he lifts your leg and places it over your shoulder. The angle of the new position lets him hit your sweet spot with every thrust, the pressure in your stomach building quickly as he thrusts into you faster and faster each time. You're all but screaming now, your toes curling as you arch upwards, your chest brushing against his, as you cry out his name. Feeling his hand cup your face, you turn your head to see Jin gritting his teeth, his thumb and forefinger gripping your chin as he stares down at you.

"Look at me when you cum," he rumbles out, and you nod meekly.

It's intense, it's rough, it's fast – but it's love. The way he's looking down at you, the emotion filling his eyes as his hips drill into you, it's enough for you to meet your release. Your body is completely overcome with him; with the way he fills you up, the way he looks at you, the way your name falls from his lips... It's a beautiful serenade that fills your ears and you're pulling him down to your mouth as you hit your release, your walls clenching around his cock as you come against him. Your lips are messily moving against his, a desperate kiss holding you together as your second release washes over you. Your lips slow their pace as your hips roll into his, your body riding out your high with his – and he's not far behind. Between the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock and your lips moving against his, Jin meets his own release in quick spurts, his thrusts slowly and sloppily moving against you as he comes, his tongue swirling with yours as the two of you succumb to the feeling.

Breaking his lips from yours, Jin is peppering soft kisses all along your face as he slowly slides out of you, his arms encasing around you as he falls to the side. He's pulling you against him, chest to chest, and he's kissing his way back to your mouth, kissing you softly before he's pulling away. Both of you are panting heavily, his fingers gently gliding along the ridges of your spine as you gently tug at the hairs on the nape of his neck, a smile gracing your lips as you nudge your nose gently against his.

"I love you," you murmur, and Jin mirrors your smile, leaning in to place his lips against yours before he's murmuring back against your mouth.

"I love you more."

"Thank you for doing this," you say, turning your head to see a dimpled grin flash back at you.

"Please," Namjoon scoffs. "I've been waiting for this to happen for years."

A chuckle escapes you then and you lean up to wrap your arms around the blonde's neck, hugging him tightly.

"Me too," you reply.

Namjoon draws back from you with a grin, his eyes drifting down to scan over your body as he offers his arm out to you – which you gladly take.

"He's going to freak out when he sees you, (Y/N)," he says earnestly. "You look fucking beautiful."

A blush forms on your cheeks as you turn away from the man, your arm looped lightly in his, and your ears perk up when you hear the music begin to play. Taking a deep breath, you collect yourself before the doors open, dozens upon dozens of faces smiling back at you as the two of you walk in. The moment your feet drag along the white lining of the aisle, your gaze falls on the man standing at the front of the altar, every other face in the room disappearing from sight except for his. He's beaming at you, the widest, brightest smile on his face as you finally reach the bottom of the steps. Dropping your arm from Namjoon's, you bow to him before taking Seokjin's hand, his fingers slipping through the empty spaces between yours as he brings it to his lips and kisses it softly. The action makes a few of the onlookers 'Aw' at the sight and you can't help but grin at him, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as he helps you up the stairs.

His hand is still tightly clasped in yours as the two of you face one another, your watery gaze falling on him as he looks at you with a look that's full of enamored emotion, tears prickling his own eyes as he quietly murmurs to you.

"You look gorgeous, baby."

Just the sound of his voice makes you quietly cry out with happiness, your hand squeezing his as the two of you face the front, ready for the ceremony to start.

"We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

[spacemilkies]

Hello there! Since you said I could send in requests here we go! I was wondering if you could do a a Cal fic where you were friends before Order 66 happened but after you two were separated due to being in hiding and Order 66. Then on one of his adventures Cal finds you and it’s like an adorable reunion for the two of you and then you two kiss and it’s kinda like “I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time” thanks I hope this works!

pairing: cal kestis x reader

word count: 6k+ (phew)

summary: “ all that mattered was each other “

a/n: it feels good to finally complete a request after a good drought. i hope you enjoy! thanks for requesting c:

                                                      _______________________

It was really something to say that you were a Jedi. Not just to boast about the otherworldly powers and the connection it threaded you with the Force. For you, it was a feeling like no other. To have the ability to not only protect yourself but to bring some sort of salvation to the rest of the galaxy against the First Order. 

It was a grand feeling for someone as young as yourself at the time. 

It was also a short lived one. 

You were still at the Temple, fresh into your abilities as a Jedi when the Clone Wars began. After living years under the safety of known peace it was jarring to suddenly be thrust into the fierce uncertainty of war. The news began as distant stories, brief recalling of your brethren fighting the good fight with Clone allies. 

For the first time in your life since discovering your sensitivity with the Force as an infant the Temple suddenly felt like less of a covenant and more of a fortress. A wall of defense to protect the rising Jedi so they may soon bring hope to the failing war and draw it to a close. 

As one of the older students, it wouldn’t be long before you would soon find yourself on the opposite side of the barrier.

It was natural to feel fear, a necessary emotion to show that you were thoughtful about what the future held and how your impact could change it. It bred into cautiousness and prompted the call for consciousness so that one did not fall short of their expectations.

A commandment of the Jedi Code fortifies that mindset by reminding one that there is no ignorance, there is knowledge. To only move forward, a young Jedi must first know its surroundings so that they can make the right step forward. 

Still it didn’t make it any less jarring. 

“Master Udu told me I might find you up here.”

You stiffen briefly, your arms tightening around the legs drawn to your chest as your shaken out of your thoughts. For the longest it has just been you and the two moons above you on your place of meditation on the hillside. It goes without saying that you had not exactly relayed such information before departing but very few masters were unable to keep up with their apprentices. 

From here you can see into the villages below. There is a multitude of individuals milling about on the streets, carting their belongings too and fro. Hardly any of their movements are rushed, not one gait altered by the implications of terror. 

By now everyone is aware of the war and its progress, yet for this village its as if the very possibility of it affecting their lifestyle doesn’t even factor as a possibility. You know their proximity to the Temple and assurance of several Jedi backing it up has something to do with it. But those Jedi are you. 

You and all your classmates who have their own doubts. 

All these people. The galaxy. Are all relying on you. 

And that’s enough to ignite true horror. 

The footsteps behind you are slow and even as your current state of mind is vocalized and in need of caution. An impossibly warm body eventually settles beside you, long legs curling under them as they lean back. It’s unnecessary, but the sight of bright ginger hair accented by the moonlight gives you all the identification you need. 

“And you took that as an invitation?”

If he takes your words to be crude, he doesn’t show it. Instead he too takes the time to observe the bodies moving below. “I didn’t realize it was a private party.”

It was determined rather early after your initial meeting that Cal Kestis would become your best friend. As most codes were written into the stars, it was just another predestined thing for two likened souls. Attracted by your mutual ambitions and pinchent for trouble, most of your years were just naturally spent together. 

Some of it was sort of due to the fact that your masters had also been acquainted since the coming of time. 

For that reason, and many like it, you knew that he was no more offended by your words than you meant for them to be. To make a point, rather than be pushed away, he only leaned in closer. 

Your body rocked softly as his shoulder nudged yours upon impact. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you give up your resolve and turn to hide your face into his neck. 

Cal doesn’t speak just yet, instead bringing an arm around to draw you in closer. Yoo many minutes pass for you too keep count before you finally break the silence. 

Your fingers fumble in your lap, nimble limbs entangling with each other without purpose. “Are you scared?”

Cal lets out a puff of air that curls outward from the cold. His gaze has lifted to the sky now, distracted by something flicking across in the infinite darkness. He knows what you’re referring to but he makes the jest anyway. “ Of Madam N’lie catching us out after hours? I would be stupid not too.”

As expected, you don’t take the joke lightly and his hands dart to catch yours before you can retaliate. What you don’t expect is for him to hold onto them tighter when you try to separate from the grasp. 

You watch, enraptured as his larger calloused hands tease apart your fist to give his own fingers room to weave between the gaps of yours. He brings them both to his mouth, offering a few heated pants to warm them up.

“It’s okay to be scared. Hell, we all are regardless of what Deaton says.”

If you and Cal were mischievous, the absent mentioned party could only be described as callous. Fueled by his own pride, he was one of the more confident apprentices in his own abilities. He often spoke the loudest and provided the most opinions when it came to strategies. When the time came he would run headfirst into battle. 

As first, you found the notion too headstrong and ignorant. But in the face of fear, what wasn’t better to be blinded by boldness?

Especially if you were going to get killed anyway?

“It’s going to be tough, yeah. There is no doubt that the war will be at its peak when we arrive. People will die-” Your breath hitches and he responded swiftly with a kiss to your crown. “But you will live on. I promise you that.”

The way he’s twisting your fingers is awkward, but you realize what he’s attempting to manipulate and your pinky aids the struggle by wrapping around his. A childish gesture but a lifelong commitment. 

You couldn’t admit it, but in that moment, for the briefest of time, your heart felt like it might burst. And you were okay with it. Because if it did come a time for you to finally pass on. If it could be done at your best friend’s side, maybe it wouldn’t be so scary after all.

                                                     _______________________

You’re in pain. So much pain. But you’ll soon meet death if you don’t wisen up quick. Because you’re alone and you don’t know where your allies are- where he is- and you would not accept defeat until you were certain. 

The ground is scorched and scarred by the wrath of the lightsabers, many battles before your own. Now you’ve officially made your mark in the war. Not only by the burned line in the ground but equally by the bodies covering them. 

The rendezvous point isn’t far, but communications are down and you’re not sure if its even safe anymore. No one wanted to admit it, but they were losing. Terribly. In the many numbers you’d lost, too many faces were familiar and the ache was growing in your heart. 

Order 66 was the reckoning of the very Jedi populace and its unrelenting force would draw the conflict to a close just by sheer annihilation. 

The crunch of incoming infantry men fatigues you more than it drives your fire for survival, yet you ignite your lightsaber regardless. It’s a brutal fight. They all are. It’s an endless cycle as you parry, roll away and come back just a little bit weaker than before. 

You Are littered with contusions and lacerations deep enough to scar if you lived long enough for them to heal properly. You’re past the bring of exhaustion now, saber piecing the ground as you lean against its handle. Breathing in and out harshly, you inhale a mixture of earth and blood. A familiar taste to you now. 

By the time your ears catch up to the quickened pace heading your way, you’re too late to react in time. Your body nearly gives away as you stumble to your feet. 

“I’m so glad I found you! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It sounds like Cal but you’re unable to differentiate between between now and the last time you spoke to him. It seems right that you would hear him now, so close to death. Your gaze is dull and heavy, unable to fully raise high enough to see his face- you think you see a wisp of red though. It’s enough you think. 

Who cares if the Force is playing tricks on you, as long as its him. 

“Hey, Cal … I think.” the cough that racks your body hurts. It hurts so bad as it rattles your lungs and threatens your bruised ribs that might even be broken. Your head spins as you feel your body being lifted and you know this is it. You’re finally ascending. 

“No, no no! Hey, stay with me okay.”

The Force really had a grasp on your memories of him. He sounds as determined as always, stubborn to a fault. You want him to know that you’re okay with this. Happy to at least be given this moment, even if its not real. 

You wish you had enough strength to touch his face. Would your hand connect or just fall through the vision?

You try anyway, pleased when it grants you this much. The hand finds the cut of his jaw, slick with sweat or blood you don’t know. It guides his face down- not as close as you want- but enough to catch the turn of his lips. You wish they would flip the other way. Grace you with one last smile. 

“I really hope … that the Force lets you hear this one day because I-”

There are more voices now, way too many of them as they swarm you from all angles. Your ‘Cal’ curses vulgarly and you wonder why he’s worried at all, it’s all over now. He draws away from your touch before you can protest and you hear the tell tale sound of a lightsaber activating.

This was it then.

But not before you-

He calls your name one last time, desperate with an emotion you weren’t aware that you had stored in your memories. 

Then it all went black. And you’re left to float in the abyss. 

‘I think I love you.’

                                                     _______________________

“Phew, I don’t know what we would do without those Jedi mind tricks of yours.”

Well for one, you’d all be dead. You certainly should have been all those years prior. Staying back briefly, you take the opportunity to catch your breath as your companions leaf through the newly revealed ruins. 

It had taken a lot of planning to make it here before the Order a feat that thad been evading most of the galaxy for quite some time. Even then, you wouldn’t be surprised to find the entire planet littered with their white uniforms by the time you made it out. 

It was a pretty good indicator that if you managed to tire yourself out by testing your connection with the Force, it was likely that you would be discovered by it. Fortunately, it seemed that these archives favored Jedi and your enemies would have to wait until you emerge or risk falling prey to the various traps and puzzles. You just hoped you would get a nice enough break before tackling that conflict. 

In order to survive, however, these conquest often required more on your part than most. When you first come across the band of scavengers and their rickety ship, it hadn’t been the most gracious meeting. That day was still hazy, some odd five years ago, but from your best knowledge and your recognition they had just found you. 

Badly patched up and barely breathing just short of the next village. The worrying part was that you were found on a planet far from the last one you remembered fighting on. From what they could tell you, the war was just about done by that point. Not that it surprised you. 

What hurt was knowing that the Jedi had all but vanished with it. 

For years you’d scoured the networks for any indication of your brethren surviving- of him still being alive. But all clues lead to the complete purge of the order. 

In the beginning of your time together, they had been doubtful of your heritage. Likely for the best as you were injured and in the midst of strangers. It was very apparent at the beginning that they had a habit of selling things off to the highest bidder. Your life alone would have made them richer than most of the galaxy. Still could. 

You suppose the truth eventually came at the trade of saving one of their lives by utilizing stasis to pause a beam in its tracks. It became a test of trust in that moment when their gratitude overcame their greed. 

That had really been it after that. 

Once a Jedi apprentice, you were reduced to a mere pirate that used the Force for cheap tricks to rob the departed. 

Wouldn’t your late master be proud. 

Still deflated by your exertion, you laughed humorlessly as the Twi'lek, Gran and human trio that made up the bandits of four pillaged through the remains. Previous trials had taught you to limit greed over time. 

While you couldn’t hide your presence, you were all fortunate enough to keep your faces hidden. The feat only possible by getting out before the enemy got in. And that timers was quickly counting down. 

“Oh, isn’t this just gorgeous?”

Ashi’ti, the ever eccentric Twi”lek, bounded over to you boasting an agreeably pretty piece of jewelry. You didn’t fight her as she draped the golden necklace over you. It would certainly earn you decent credits. 

Hosting a burst bag of his own, your Gran friend seems to share your eagerness to depart, “This terrain didn’t give us the opportunity to hide our ship as well as it should be. We need to get moving.”

Staring for longingly at all she couldn’t carry, you briefly wondered if you would have to drag Ash’ti out again. There is a familiar pout on her lips but to everyone relief she snatches a few more trinkets before shouldering her own bag. “Tsk. Always interrupting a woman’s shopping time, Blague. “

The Gran can only roll his eyes as she flounces by, not missing the opportunity to brush against him as she does so. He shares a look with you and you hope your smile doesn’t resemble a grimace too much. By the mirror you receive, it’s unlikely. 

“Alright, let’s move out. Hoods up, masks on.”

Taking one last unhindered breath, you obediently go through the motions of disguising your appearance. From a glance, they would be able to make out your differing species but as some of the more common ones in the galaxy it wasn’t much to go by if you haven’t given them too long to observe. 

Fortunately, the way out was easier than the way in and required significantly less of your abilities. The intricate puzzles were apparently more for those entering and rewards those who leave. 

Blague speaks up again as you near the exit.

“Keep confrontations to a minimum. I’d rather take the time for stealth than direct conflict.”

Blowing out an airy breath beside you, Ash’ti fails to refrain from commenting,” No bravery for the wicked.”

“Or the living,” you shoot back under your breath. She doesn’t make any indication of hearing you. 

Just before you reach the final chamber, Blague brings everyone to a halt and you all tense in anticipation. The shortcut had led you back to the entrance, one of the less hindered rooms. Anyone without utility of the Force could make it that far, certainly a few stormtroopers. 

Readying her blaster, Ash’ti lines herself with the nearest wall. Battle partners aside, when it came to protecting her cash-out, no one was fiercer,” Are they getting that much better at tracking?”

There was an odd look on Brague’s face as he stalled as if questioning his own intuition. His lips parted at the cusp of words but never managed to form them. 

You realize late that he didn’t need to. 

The feeling doused you like a dip in an icy river, paralyzing you by the veins. The pressure was indescribable despite how much you didn’t want to believe it. It probed at your consciousness, first demanding then hesitant as if it realized just what it was sensing. 

All signs led to what you’d been trained to know and yet.

“Alright, enough of this.”

“Ash’ti, no!”

The fire of her blaster just missed Brague’s intervention but did not miss its intended target. The return fire came from more than direction as various white suits made their appearance known, shouting commands over the increasing chaos as you all readied for battle. 

The lack of witnesses that you would leave behind meant that you could use your Force more freely but there was a sense of hesitation as you couldn’t quite shake off the second strand connecting another soul nearby. 

Had they lead them here? Or was it just another squad following your trail?

More importantly, were they alone?

The shout of your third companion came as a late warning as the earth above you crumbled from a stray blast. Your eyes went wide as a slab of rock broke from the ceiling. Thrusting your hand up you immediately called upon stasis only to be beaten to the command. 

All suspicions were confirmed, you found yourself dumbfounded under the impending fall as you stared up in wonder. After all this time, in all the moments you could reunited. There was finally a voice beneath the weight of the purge. 

A voice gruff with aggravation growled just before it collided with your body, throwing you both aside to safety. 

Groaning, your head spun from the impact. When you tried to roll over, you found yourself pinned still by your savior. 

Your savior. 

A Jedi. 

Kicking back as you in your attempt to crawl backwards, you boot collided none too kindly with their side. A cry of pain left them as they curled into their injury with grumbling complaint. 

From the opposite side of the rubble, your friends called out worriedly. The lack of gun fire meant that you were all safe for now but that wouldn’t last for very long. For any of you. 

Kriffing! An actual Jedi. 

Where did you even begin? What faction were they part of? Where did they serve? How had they escaped?

“That is not how you thank your savior.”

You were thankful for your mask as the figure slowly unraveled itself as the phantom of pain faded. It was a man, lean and lithe. But that wasn’t the defining feature that caught your breath in your throat. 

His hair mimicked a dim flame that you thought had extinguished years ago and yet. 

“Woah, woah!” 

Showing his hands first, his attention completely left you as it focused instead on your approaching teammate. Still primed for a fight, Ash’ti kept her blaster leveled and prepared. 

“And who the hell are you?’

You didn’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, hand already going for your mask to free your face. 

“Ash, no its fine. I know him.”

She hesitated, but she didn’t look convinced. “You just happen to know every Jedi that you come across?”

But her mitrustful nature couldn’t phase you as you were already enraptured by his wide eyed gaze as he turned to face you fully. The years had done him kindly but not without a few scars from the past. The most prominent stark against the bridge of his nose. 

It was still undeniably your best friend. 

Pure elation took hold of every note in your voice, “Cal!”

The distance was short, but you crossed it with the gusto of a preemptive sprint into battle. All your strength darted to your legs as you jumped, feet pushing off the ground as you launch yourself. And his arms were waiting to catch you with ease. 

Your heart hurt from the way it hammered against your chest. The sharp throb pounding in your ears as a smile split your face. He stumbled briefly, not having to counter your weight in years and sorely out of practice. 

He managed to counter well, however, as your legs clamped around his middle. Cal’s arm steadies you round the waist, only having to take a single step back to adjust for the impact. Your hands were already proding at his face, combing through his auburn locks and inspecting his scars and-

You wanted to laugh until you were delirious. For years all you wanted was a sign and you got this.

“That night- I thought I died. I thought you died. I-” Happiness had weakened the damn and the first trickle of wetness began to trail down your cheeks. His free hand came around, moving away the strands of hair already sticking to your face and cupping your cheek to tip it toward him. 

“I’ve missed you so much, starfly.”

The joy seeping through your bones could bring life to a garden. 

“Okay, what the hell?”

Jerking around, the two of you stared at the forgotten group with a mutual flush. 

Brague looked like he was ready for the day to be over, twenty four hours ago, no doubt not prepared to factor in a second Jedi to his plans. Ash’ti looked an interesting mix of distrustful and amused, turning her pretty skin an interesting shade. Lark, your ever quiet human companion, was already making his way toward the exit. 

Cal was reluctant, but eased his grip to allow you to slide to your feet. However, his arm remained around your waist. Still reeling from the shock, you continued to stare up at him with glee, feeling lighter than air for the first time in a very long time. 

Reaching for his hand, you curled your pinky securely with his own.

“Guys, this is my best friend.”

                                                     _______________________

To say things went smoothly was an understatement. Naturally everyone had questions, but the pressing matter of reinforcements weighed down everything else. Apparently, Cal had come to the tombs for a reason but seemed reluctant to continue on with his quest. The threat what ultimately got everyone to move. 

The conflict of transportation came next. 

Your own vessel was tucked away in the forestry while Cal insisted that his companions were waiting for him on the ledge. It was obvious that neither of you wanted to part but it eventually came down to who would pull whom. 

Brague ultimately made the decision for you, dragging off a sputtering Ash’ti while Cal dragged you toward his own ship. For now the two of you would part ways to confuse the enemy and meet back up when it was safe. 

Warm fingers touched your wrist before squeezing reassuringly. Less than half an hour later after an impromptu meeting with his skeleton crew, Cal had you holed up in a cabin for a proper reunion. One that didn’t come too easily. 

You eyes hesitated for a moment before flickering upward. You didn’t trust your words just yet but the silence was slowly building an ache within you. 

It did give you the chance to check out his room. He didn’t exactly style it to his taste, or at least the ones you remember from all those years ago. Cal did have a few knick knacks of his own, however. You wondered how long he’s been with this crew. Had he been scouring the galaxy all this time?

You swallowed all the greedy questions, not wanting to bombard him all at once when he certainly had his own. 

“I thought you were dead!” You blurted, a reoccurring theme between you. There was no reason for either of you to believe the other survived. You had less of a recount than he did, only remembering that last fated battle. 

Settled side by side on his bed, Cal still kept your hands securely in his own. His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles as he spoke. “I found you in the forest that night. You were so overrun and then more came. I tried to fight them off. We- got separated and when i managed to come back you were gone. “

His eyes searched yours pleadingly, hopeful that you could fill the gaps. But you honestly didn’t have much to offer. 

Your trapped hands only offered a stiff shrug,” I don’t really remember much after that. Somehow I got off that planet.” Over the years, you theorized about another Jedi or Clone who might have escaped with you only to ultimately get separated in the end. After awhile, you just gave up probing for the truth. You were alive but at the cost of everyone you loved; what was worth remembering?

His chin came to rest on the crown of your head, voice raw with emotion,” I was so convinced- I shouldn’t have given up.”

Immediately you protest, words muffled by his clothes as you pressed into them. “We didn’t know. But we survived. That’s what’s important.”

His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sliding underneath your jaw. Just when you think he’s going to tilt your face up it falls away to rest at the nape of your neck as his body shudders. 

You find yourself recalling your life up until now. Before you’d been content- not happy with your choices- but alive and well rested with your choices that kept you that way. Now that you spoke them aloud to your closest confidant, you almost felt ashamed. 

At the end of the day, you were a thief that stole and sold what you could to survivor. It didn’t make it any better just because you made a living off of it. 

But he didn’t judge you or make any indication of ill thoughts towards your lifestyle. In fact, he did the opposite, laughing sheepishly as he told you about his life as a rigger. Told tales of extra metals and ores he would steal off old ships and sell off market. A lot of his stories revolve around a single figure. Prauf, he called him. 

When you asked about him he stilled. 

“He died before I escaped trying to protect me.”

Startled, your face flicked between remorse and uncertainty, unsure of how to progress. The death seemed fresh on his mind and still painful in his voice. 

“I’m sorry.”

From this position, you couldn’t see his face, but he pulled you closer in response. 

He continued on about how he was rescued by Cere and the short span of adventures he explored before he met you. What it all summed up to was what had you drawing away in surprise.

“You want to revive the Order?”

The idea had never crossed your mind as a possibility. Why would it? Everyone had been obliterated. And now, not only were they outnumbered but they wanted to try it again. 

You found yourself rescinding any compliment you had for his new companions that had saved his life. They were selfishly making him repay a debt that would get him killed.

Before you could get to your feet, prepared to contact Brague he was drawing you back in. There was a new pull to his lips, a childish turn that aged from your appreciation days. 

“I know it sounds crazy but we have to do something.”

No. You didn’t have to do anything. You were lingering fragments of a broken organization. The cards had already fallen and now you would deal with them. Not pick them up and challenge the table again. 

“Cal, it’s not that easy. You can’t just-”

You hated that. The determination storming in his blue gaze. You were already too late. He’s made up his mind a long time ago and you could only accept his decision or cut ties…

As if you’d even consider the later. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you tried fruitlessly to fight the grin tugging at your lips when his lips pressed firmly into your cheek. 

“You don’t have to decide now. I’m just happy having you here.”

                                                     _______________________

You end up sort of just lingering on the Mantis. Partly your reluctance to leave Cal’s side and his own persistence to keep you there. For the time being, the expeditions have been suspended as Cere suspects that they should wait for Empire activity to settle. 

Apparently, your combined presence brought more attention than intended. As Cere planned to eventually introduce more Jedi as they were found to their cause this wasn’t unexpected but sooner than planned. 

She saw it more as a chance for everyone to get their bearings and an opportunity for the two of you to properly catch up. And that you did. 

In the meadows of Bogano, Cal excitedly introduced you to a vocal BD-1. His reliable companion that followed him into every skirmish and saved him more than once. You of course found the little robot utterly adorable. 

It continued to bounce around the two of you as you lounged in the grass. 

“Man, remember when Eli tried practicing his stasis by pranking Madam Lou. I’ll never forget her face when the bucket toppled over on her.” His laughter was infectious as he recalled the memories of the past. 

You were resting comfortably with your head on his chest as his fingers card idly through your hair. The way you resumed your relationship come at no surprise to you. Nothing was left unsaid between you, leaving no barrier to impede your reconnection. 

Reaching your hand up towards the sky, you grinned unabashedly when his immediately sought it out and tangled them together. There were few moments where you weren’t attached at some form, bringing up the embarrassing question from Greez as to watch your relationship was.

‘They’re my best friend.’

Which was true in every sense of the world and yet. 

Maybe if you hadn’t lived the life you had maybe things would have been different.

No.

That’s a lie. You know explicit in every lifetime you would fall in love with this same boy. The one whose mere existence was enough to teeter you off balance when he smiled in your direction. He was as charismatic and enigmatic now, all these years later; a systematic habit for you to relish in. Just when you thought it was all over and you would have to scrap from the leftovers of the world, he plowed right back into your life to break the darkest days into light. 

He was a hero to every arc of your story. And you just lo-

“Hey, you listening to me?”

The poke between your brows startles you. You lift your head and meet the brilliant blue somehow managing to smile at you from the seas. Still lost in your thoughts you wonder how easy it would be to just lean in. Would he reciprocate?

Remembering your place, you ask him to repeat himself with nervous laughter on your lips. But he doesn’t. Instead he continues to meet your gaze with a new intensity you can’t fathom. 

His lashes are longer than you remember or perhaps you’d just never been this close. Lips, soft and pink, you speculate what the pressure would feel like against yours. You try to swallow but there isn’t enough saliva on your tongue to justify the attempt leaving you to embarrassingly clear your throat.

“We should-”

“The night I lost you. When I had you clutched in my arms while I fought off the Empire. You told me something.”

Almost immediately you know where this is going. There is no doubt in your mind. But Cal is quicker, is arm preventing escape. 

“I carried it with me all this time. Even when I gave up on the idea-” he pauses to swallow down the memory. The regret. “It was just enough to live by to know that.”

You close your eyes because it’s the only way you can briefly escape. The entire mood has changed, the air thick with so much promise yet your scared. It’s Cal. You know him almost as much as you know yourself. Even as he brushes against the topic, you know where it will lead. 

At least for the moment.Nothing about the future is certain anymore. The realization of that apparent all those years ago. And still prior to that, he’d made a promise. And he remained here to this day to hold it true.

His hands seems to have made a new home at your cheek. It tends to reside there in the off chance it’s not clutching your hand or hanging from your pinky finger. There is a light pressure at the nape of your neck, urging you closer but not pushing. You close the distance upon your own inhibition. 

“Will you tell me again?” he whispers, lips inches from your own. 

“I love-”

He silences you with a kiss before you could complete his request, always too ambitious and headstrong. Pent up nervous energy on both parts keeps it chaste. There is a pretty flush against his cheeks as he realizes his error.

“Oh, sorry- you hadn’t-”

Rolling your eyes with a huff, you lean in for a more proper kiss this time around. Cal whines against you, pulling you tighter still. Oh to finally really kiss him. The feeling washes over how desperately you’d been waiting for this moment even before the downfall. While your relationship had always remained within friendly limits, the love had never lost its potency. It was fierce and bright, immersive in a way only the two of you could create. 

This was your first honest taste and you were already starved for it. Teats bubble from the corners of your eyes unbidden as you down in the affection. He spots them when he finally breaks the kiss. 

His gaze is knowing as a thumb swipes at your cheek. Those blue eyes look as though they wished they could communicate how right everything was with the world even despite the turmoil. 

Burying your face in his poncho, you wipe away the rest of the tears.

“I love you, Cal.”

His chest shakes with relief and rises with laughter as his hand runs along the length of your spine.

“I love you too.”

[sorewo]

Island Nights

Having a crush during a killing game on a deserted island is hard, but maybe they could make it work.

Content Warning: None

You can also read it here.

The first and second trial came and went, leaving the students with a reminder of their new harsh reality. Few were able to sleep, and those who did faced nightmares of unimaginable events that were no longer unimaginable. Some of those sleepless students, like Komaeda, simply sat and watched the sky, contemplating their futures that may no longer exist.

   However, Komaeda’s mind was filled with quite a bit more than the others, as the diseases, cancers, and other illnesses plagued his being. Would it even be possible for him to survive long enough to see the final trial? He was, by now, well aware that his mindset towards hope and despair no longer mattered, every day would simply be another win-win situation, leaving neither side victorious in the end. Hinata, though, was another symbol of hope himself. Watching the boy lead the group through investigations and trials left a fluttery feeling in Komaeda’s stomach. Every time, he simply waved off the feeling, because surely, Hinata would be able to find someone better. He almost wished that he would die of an illness before the end, not wanting to see Hinata be dragged down with the rest of the survivors when they would inevitably make the wrong decision.

   Hinata knew that he should be trying to fall asleep, and yet he still found himself wandering the islands in search of comfort, searching for something to take his mind off of the horrific execution he had witnessed just a few hours earlier. His body was not the only thing wandering, but his mind, as well. Sending him back to finding the body, the investigation, and the trial they had to endure. He stopped himself there, though, not wanting to think about Peko’s death once again. He thought about the other students, and what little he knew about them. He knew Hiyoko could be quite the baby, and that Komaeda was much more intelligent than he let on. Hinata shook his head violently, not wanting to think about the one person that could make him rethink an entire trial with just a few words, whether it was because he was wrong about the trial or if the boy just flustered him, he refused to question. Hinata’s late night stroll, however, brought him to the devil himself, sitting on the beach alone. Deciding he no longer wanted to be alone with his thoughts, he approached the fluffy-haired boy sitting beneath the stars.

   Komaeda fully expected the person behind him to kill him, only praying that they would make it quick and painless, though he knew he didn’t deserve to be let off that easy. Instead of the death he wished for so much, it was quickly revealed that the footsteps were none other than the ever-popular Hajime Hinata’s. He could feel the sand around him settle as Hinata plopped down next to him. They sat in silence, well aware that their words would be the same. The stars in the sky sparkled and shone as if to taunt them, reminding them of their inability to escape the island. The waves farther down the beach caused the shore to rise and recede, like the ocean was trying to lure them to the depths, implying that ending it themselves would be easier.

   “Do you think we’ll make it until the end?” Komaeda’s voice broke the silence, startling Hinata. His eyes glanced over to the taller boy before returning back to the water. A simple “I don’t know” was all he was able to answer. The silence turned awkward, neither of the boys knowing how to respond, or if the conversation should even continue. “Well, I do,” Komaeda starts, allowing a few seconds to think about what he would say next. “Because I truly believe in the hope that lies inside you.” Finally, Hinata turned his head to the boy next to him, intending to question him further, but was stopped by the disgustingly sweet smile on Komaeda’s face.

   Hinata turned his head away so quickly it made him feel sick, the soft blush on his face made him look it, as well. The sea suddenly seemed more interesting, trying his best not to give any more clues than he already had. Komaeda, of course, had not missed the reddening of his friend’s cheeks, but out of fear of it making things more awkward, he said nothing. Instead, his hand inched towards Hinata’s hand, stopping just short from it’s destination.

   “How long do you think we’ll make it?” Hinata questioned, the first time he had spoken an entire sentence all night. The hope-obsessed boy gave his usual hope-obsessed answer. “As long as you have hope, I’m sure you all will be able to overcome this despair!” Hinata could tell that he was about to go off on another rant about hope and despair, and decided that he would much rather stop him there.

   “When you say ‘you all,’ that doesn’t include you, does it?”

   Komaeda stared at him with wide eyes, not expecting Hinata to care. He blinked twice, before speaking once again. “Why would it? We both know I’m not worthy enough to be considered equal to everyone else.” The response sent chills down Hinata’s spine. The boy’s tone made it seem as though it were common sense, something everybody knew and would never question. “Komaedaaaaa,” Hinata started, “You might get on our nerves sometimes, but we’re all glad that someone actually thinks we’ll be able to escape, even me.” The tall boy beside him looked like he had just gotten shot by the most beautiful person in the world. His eyes large and bright, a new sparkle finding its way home there, as well. The blush now on his face was a dark contrast to his usual skin tone, covering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He looked like he was about to cry.

   Hinata’s fingers made the last move, intertwining their pinkies as their eyes met for what seemed like hours. Hinata chuckled before turning back to the beach, giving his newfound requited crush some space to compose himself. As he looked out at the endless sea, he thought that maybe, just maybe , everything would be okay.

   Hinata swore the boy beside him shifted a little closer than he had been before.

[elyvorg]

The Ultimate Talent Development Plan AU is the one canon AU in which everything is thoroughly good and despair-free and everyone lives happily ever after. …Except for Maki, potentially, because this is also the one AU in which her assassin cult is actually real and she might have to just go back to killing people once she graduates. This is Unacceptable and needs to have something done about it, because Maki deserves a happy life even more than anyone else after what she’s been through.

One of the possible ways of dealing with this is that Shuichi would fix things for her using his detective skills, like he offers to do in her last FTE in canon. He wouldn’t directly take down the assassin cult himself, but he could amass enough evidence of its awful deeds to pass on to some kind of government authority which could then move in and arrest all of its members and take the kids somewhere safe.

One time while I was thinking about this, though, a thought occurred to me: what if the assassin cult got wind of the fact that Shuichi was investigating them? What would they do then?

Imagine Maki going back to her work after graduation while clinging to the thought that it won’t be long now, that this new name on her hit list might just be the last person she’ll ever have to kill before it’s over and she’s free… only to see the name Shuichi Saihara.

And, well, that thought sure wouldn’t get out of my head and blossomed into an entire story. It would take me too long to write this as an actual fic, so instead, here’s just all of the ideas I had for how things would go, essentially telling the story right here in bullet-point form.

Part 1: how we got there

Let’s assume Hope’s Peak privileges meant that Maki didn’t have to work as an assassin while she was attending. So she’d begun to get used to having a relatively normal, non-murdery life for the three years she was there, especially with everything Kaito did to help her start facing her issues and feel more like a normal girl than a murderer.

Perhaps Maki had begun to hope, after Kaito had helped her admit that she never wanted to kill anyone, that Hope’s Peak’s supposed privilege of making its graduates “set for life” could mean that she wouldn’t have to be an assassin any more. Like, the Academy would pull some strings with the assassin cult to just completely cut her ties with it and let her live freely without the fear of those kids starving if she didn’t do what she was ordered to.

Towards the end of the three years, Kaito and Shuichi start to worry about what’ll happen to Maki once she graduates and ask her if they can do anything, but Maki tells them that she expects Hope’s Peak will do something like that for her and she’ll be fine. (She’s not completely sure they will, but she doesn’t want her friends to worry.)

…Except, that doesn’t happen. Turns out what Hope’s Peak meant by “set for life” in Maki’s case is that she’ll get to be an assassin for life. In one of her FTEs, Maki vaguely alludes to the fact that assassins in her cult are killed off once they’ve outlived their usefulness – like, perhaps, when they reach adulthood and are old enough to possibly start thinking for themselves. All Hope’s Peak did by pulling strings was make it so that that won’t happen to Maki, so that she’s trapped in her life of killing people forever! How nice of them!!!

When she learns this, Maki probably doesn’t even want to tell Kaito and Shuichi, because she doesn’t want to worry them and anyway there’s nothing they can do about it (right?). Kaito, of course, notices her acting off and distant and prods the truth out of her. Even then, Maki insists that it’s not a big deal, she’ll be able to handle it now that Kaito’s helped her feel like she’s more than just a killer; she can just live a double-life between horrible murderer and normal person and be fine, right?

Kaito and Shuichi both try to tell her that would not be remotely okay, but she insists that she doesn’t want them doing anything reckless for her sake. Besides, at least this means that she’ll never have to be replaced, meaning that as long as she’s alive and killing people, none of the other kids from her orphanage (those kids that Kaede played piano for, and that Himiko’s arranged to do a magic show for soon!) will ever have to go through what she did. That’s worth it to her.

(Kaito and Shuichi are still not okay with this, but they don’t push the topic for now.)

 At Himiko’s orphanage magic show, everything is generally adorable and lovely, and Maki uses this to firmly remind herself that these kids’ smiles are what she’s being a murderer for, that it’s fine and she can handle this and nothing needs to change.

But while she’s there for the show, Maki happens to get talking with one of the kids, a girl of around ten or so, and gets the most horrifying pit in her stomach as she realises that the men who recruit assassins have been visiting, and they have their eye on this girl.

They’re replacing Maki anyway. She’s not saving anyone by continuing to be a murderer. Nothing she does as an assassin, not even as the Hope’s Peak-approved Ultimate Assassin, is ever going to make a difference to this cycle of misery.

And, that’s it. That’s the last straw. Maki manages to keep herself together long enough for the magic show to end and Himiko to remain unaware of anything weird, but as soon as they’re alone, she turns to Kaito and Shuichi and begs them to help her end this. She doesn’t want this any more, not for herself or for any of those other kids. Hope’s Peak has shown itself to not give a fuck, so Kaito and Shuichi are the only people she can turn to. She has no idea how they can do something about this – it barely seems possible at all – but that… that’s never stopped Kaito, right!?

As it turns out, Kaito and Shuichi have already been having discussions about how they can help Maki while she wasn’t around (because they knew if they brought it up in front of her she’d just shut them down), so Shuichi has already been thinking about investigating the assassin cult and taking it down that way.

Kaito was still planning on bringing this up to Maki soon and persuading her to let Shuichi help. But he’s so incredibly proud that Maki realised on her own that she didn’t want this anymore and has made the decision to try and change her fate and claw her way towards something that seems impossible! (Of course, she’d never have been able to reach that mindset without everything Kaito’s done for her, but because he didn’t have to push her to take that final step, Kaito probably doesn’t quite realise just how completely thanks to him this is.)

Part 2: the ickiest job

So now we’re basically at the point I described in the beginning of this post. As soon as they graduate from Hope’s Peak, Shuichi gets underway with investigating the assassin cult to prove what it really does and who its members are. Maki has to go back to reporting to them and acting like she works for them for the time being, but she knows it won’t be long until Shuichi ends this.

Kaito put his astronaut training on hold for now just so that he can keep an eye on them both. He has Shuichi keep him updated about the progress of his investigation, and he keeps talking to Maki as often as he can to make sure she’s feeling okay about being suddenly thrust back into that world that she’d almost escaped from. She’s mostly doing fine, but that’s only because she hasn’t received any new hit requests yet.

Until she does. Maki tells herself that this new order is going to be the last one ever, that she’ll only have to kill one more person before Shuichi can save her… and then she sees Shuichi’s name, and everything falls apart.

She can’t refuse the order. She just can’t. The cult is still fully functional and in control of her orphanage – who knows what they would do to those kids (and to that one girl they’ve already got their eye on!) if she refuses. The kids have always been why she’s doing this. She would do anything to keep them safe; she made that promise to herself long ago.

She also knows perfectly well why the cult gave this job to her rather than any of their other assassins with no connection to Shuichi. They wanted to see if she was still capable of doing it, because if she wasn’t, then she’d be compromised and of no use to them any more. If she refused, they’d probably kill her off anyway, despite their agreement with Hope’s Peak.

It’s not like that would even save Shuichi, either – they’d just pass the job onto another of their assassins. And not all of them specialise in painless deaths. Shuichi was already doomed from the moment the cult realised what he was doing and decided he had to die. Surely Maki being the one to do it, as quickly and kindly as she can, is the best way for it to happen?

Who was she kidding thinking she could ever get out of this, anyway? Assassins are always necessary. Her being an assassin has always been necessary. It doesn’t matter what she wants or how she feels. It never mattered. The impossible is just impossible; she should never have allowed herself the luxury of believing any of Kaito’s idealistic nonsense.

Kaito, who reached out to her and still believed in her even after learning the truth about her, and now she’s going to repay that kindness by murdering his best friend. He never should have got close to her and made the mistake of caring about her in the first place, and then Shuichi wouldn’t have put himself in the cult’s way and the two of them could have been just fine without her. She’s just a murderer who only ever hurts people. She never deserved them.

So, as she’s sinking into a pit of utter despair (and I am not using that word lightly here), Maki prepares herself to break into Shuichi’s house at night and kill him in his sleep. That way, at least he’ll never know that his “friend” betrayed him.

Meanwhile, Kaito heard from one of Shuichi’s recent check-ins that at one point he worried his cover might have been blown, but things seem to have been okay for the past few days, so, eh, probably not?

Except… that night, Maki suddenly doesn’t show up to Kaito’s regular mini training sessions to check on how she’s doing. She doesn’t answer his texts or calls when he tries to ask her where she is, either. He might have brushed it off as simply something having come up and her having forgotten to tell him, and also forgotten to charge her phone… but Maki doesn’t forget things like that. Then Kaito remembers what Shuichi told him the other day, and he pieces it together.

and, no, no no no no no, this can’t happen. He won’t let this happen. He’s meant to be their hero, he has to be able to do something about this, he has to.

So Kaito drops everything and just fucking sprints to Shuichi’s house in the middle of the night, his heart in his mouth, begging the stars and the universe and every force of good in the world to let him not be too late.

Maki stands over a sleeping, oblivious Shuichi, trying to convince herself that her hand holding the knife isn’t shaking, that she never had a choice, that she’s just a heartless killer who doesn’t care – only to be snapped out of it by Kaito’s voice yelling her name at the top of his lungs. Not just her name, her nickname: Maki Roll! He knows why she’s here, but she doesn’t want to do this!

And Maki, knowing that she should just finish the job right now and escape out the window before Kaito has to see her do it, finds herself frozen. Shuichi’s awake now, staring at her in bewilderment and fear, no longer blissfully oblivious… and Kaito’s right. She doesn’t want to do this. It shouldn’t matter, but he’s right.

Moments later, Kaito makes it into Shuichi’s bedroom and immediately puts himself between Maki and Shuichi. (Shuichi, having only just woken up, is not only frightened but also extremely confused and is quite happy to just stay behind Kaito where it feels safer for the moment until he can get his brain to process what the hell is going on.)

Kaito makes it very clear that if Maki’s going to kill Shuichi, she’s going to have to kill him, too. He’s not letting either of his sidekicks get hurt.

Maki’s assassin mask is not on so tightly that she can’t realise what Kaito means by those words. He’s not only protecting Shuichi from being killed; he’s trying to protect her from carrying out the act by making it as difficult for her as possible. He still cares about her, even though she was moments away from murdering his best friend. He still believes that she won’t kill him despite what she was about to do to Shuichi. How can he be such an idiot?

But of course Kaito still believes in her; Maki Roll’s his sidekick! – and Maki snaps at him to stop calling her that! She’s not a normal girl; she’s never going to get to be one. He’s doing that thing he does, where he makes her believe that she deserves to be happy, that the impossible can be possible, and maybe it is for him, but it’s not for her; it never was.

This whole time, she’s still brandishing her knife, but it’s like in those sprites of hers – she’s not pointing it at Kaito or Shuichi; she’s just holding it out like some kind of barrier, like she can stop Kaito’s words getting through to her. She can’t falter here, because those kids, that girl – who knows what’d happen to them? And it’d be all her fault, because she was selfish, because she let herself care too much, because Kaito brought that out of her like he never should have done.

But Kaito just smiles and tells her that hey, sure the impossible’s possible for her as well, they’ve just gotta work together to make it so! There’s gotta be a way out of this, too, right, Shuichi?

(because Kaito doesn’t have a goddamn clue how to actually fix this situation beyond putting himself between Maki and Shuichi in this moment so she won’t be able to go through with it, but Shuichi should know a proper way out of this, right? Shuichi always knows what to do.)

Shuichi, having more or less managed to calm his panic enough to understand what’s going on by now, tells her that he’s almost finished with his investigation. He’s pretty sure he only needs a few more days’ work to have everything he needs to take it to the authorities and take down the cult. Then those kids will be safe and Maki won’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do any more. She just needs to trust him and believe that it’s possible.

While he’s telling her this, Shuichi moves out from behind Kaito, a silent show of the fact that he still trusts her despite what he knows she almost did. He believes just like Kaito does that Maki doesn’t want to do this, that so long as she knows that there is a way out of this, then she’ll be brave enough to take that risk and let him help her.

It works. Maki had already admitted that she didn’t want this life any more before getting the hit request on Shuichi; her mask was hanging on by a thread the whole time she was here and it can’t withstand this. She kind of just breaks and begins to cry – the first time that Kaito and Shuichi have ever seen her do so. Kaito goes to hug her, partly as an excuse to gently take the knife from her, but mostly just because she really, really needs it. She doesn’t resist.

Kaito spends the hug telling her that everything’s going to be okay, not like it’s a reassurance but just like it’s fact, and in that Kaito way he has, he manages to get her to just about believe it herself.

 Part 3: on the run

After Maki’s done sobbing into Kaito’s shoulder, she pulls herself together and gets down to business. The cult will be expecting her to report in that she’s completed the job soon, possibly as early as tomorrow. As soon as they realise she hasn’t and has gone rogue, they’ll send in other assassins to kill both her and Shuichi, so they can’t stay there.

(She’s still worried about what’ll happen to the kids, but Shuichi reassures her that they won’t be able to risk doing anything drastic to them for now, not when they know Shuichi’s onto them and looking for evidence of shady activity. Now of all times is when they’d want to keep pretending to be a perfectly normal orphanage that takes care of its kids. If they’re going to hurt the kids, it’ll happen later, and Shuichi’s going to make sure there won’t be a later for those assholes.)

For the time being, though, Shuichi and Maki are going to have to go into hiding. Shuichi will continue to investigate as best he can from there and Maki can use her knowledge of assassin methods to predict the ways in which the other assassins will be looking for them and keep them both safe.

And Kaito? …Technically he has nothing to do with this; the cult has no reason to want him dead and possibly doesn’t even know he has any connection to Maki or Shuichi beyond Hope’s Peak. He could just walk away from this right here and be safe.

When Maki tries to point this out to him, Kaito just stares at her and says, “Are you stupid or something?” and that’s the end of that.

(Of course she knew he’d be too stubborn to even consider leaving them like this, but she still couldn’t help but try and get him to do so, just because then at least he’d definitely get out of this alive and unhurt.)

So the three of them get the hell out of there, cut all communication with everyone else they know for the time being for their safety, and go into hiding.

(Maki makes Kaito ditch the hairstyle before they leave because it’s way too eye-catching when they need to lay low. He pretends to be indignant at first – surely there’s gotta be some kinda downside to doing that! – but then dutifully sticks his head under Shuichi’s shower for a couple of minutes without complaint.)

Kaito may not have much skill in terms of investigating or physically protecting them, but he’s here for moral support. Which isn’t just a trite excuse to make himself feel important – his friends genuinely need that more than ever.

After all, Shuichi and Maki are both kind of terrified and barely holding it together. Shuichi’s never been in a situation this dangerous before, and he’s anxious enough at the best of times. And Maki’s afraid not just for the three of them but also for the kids – if they don’t succeed, those kids will suffer the consequences too and it’ll be all her fault. So having Kaito there, somehow still managing to be his usual optimistic self, means the world to them right now.

(Kaito is equally terrified, of course. He’s just better than either of them at hiding it, and determined to do so because he knows that they need him to be strong for them, and that this is the only thing he can really do for them in this situation at all.)

Maki is quietly impressed by how strong Kaito’s managing to be for them. She’s always seen him as – well, sure, the friend who changed her life and inspired her to believe things could be better, but also as just a carefree ridiculous idiot who’d never had to go through the kind of horrors from her world. She was never entirely sure whether he’d really be able to stay that optimistic if he experienced anything close to as serious as what she’d been through – not that she ever wanted to have to find that out, of course.

Yet here Kaito is, in this life-or-death situation, still managing to make this seem like it’s just a big adventure where the good guys are obviously going to win, because that’s just how things work!

(And Maki knows full well that there’s no way Kaito’s really that oblivious to how serious the situation is, that he’s doing this on purpose to help them, and that’s… kind of incredible, actually?)

Shuichi’s much less surprised to see Kaito like this, because he’d always been under the impression that Kaito really is this strong. He’d never exactly imagined they’d ever be in this kind of situation, obviously, but even so, it just feels natural somehow that Kaito would be able to do this for them.

Kaito, on his end, is so proud to see how well his sidekicks are holding up. It’s such an incredible sign of Maki’s growth that she’s able to bring herself to fight against the cult and try and escape the reality she’d resigned herself to for so long.

And meanwhile, Kaito never realised Shuichi would be so good in a crisis. Sure, he still seems to be scared, but despite that, he’s able to focus on his task and Get Shit Done in a way that Kaito himself feels utterly lost with right now. This is the first time in this universe that Kaito has really found himself not only being proud of Shuichi, but almost… looking up to him?

(Oh you poor innocent UTDP Kaito, you have no idea.)

Being Kaito, he is also significantly underestimating the extent to which Maki and Shuichi are only able to be this strong because he’s there supporting them, despite the fact he’s very deliberately trying to do that for them and knows that it’s the only thing he’s really contributing here.

I’m not sure precisely how things go while they’re on the run, because the exact plot logistics of how Shuichi can investigate the assassin cult are not a thing I’m great at figuring out. (This is part of the reason why I won’t actually write this as a fic, aside from just not having the time.)

I’m here for the character stuff, so I’ve mostly been thinking about the quiet moments in between the detective espionage where the three of them are relatively safe together in whatever hideout they’re using. Kaito would, of course, still insist on training sessions each night – at least as much as is possible while they’re trying to stay inconspicuous and keep an eye out for enemies – and they’d be able to use those as moments to collect their thoughts and reflect on the situation.

Maki would feel awful for the fact that Kaito and Shuichi are putting themselves in this much danger just to help her. When Kaito notices she seems bothered about something that isn’t just the situation itself and prods this out of her, she’d try to insist that it’d have been better if they’d never met her and befriended her in the first place, and then they wouldn’t even know or care that child assassins like her are suffering because nobody was ever supposed to know or care.

Kaito scoffs at that idea completely. He’s a hero! Obviously he’s here to save people who are weak and suffering, so of course he should have befriended Maki in order to be able to help her and those kids like they’re doing now. What kind of idiot is she being to think he wouldn’t have wanted to do this from the start!?

Shuichi, being rather more realistic about things, admits that of course he’s really scared right now and a part of him wishes he hadn’t got wrapped up in this. But still, Kaito (and Kaede, and others) helped him realise during their time at Hope’s Peak how much he cares about helping people, and that he can use his detective skills to do that – so he’s really proud that he’s able to use his detective skills right now to literally save lives, both for Maki and those other kids. So yes, he’s scared… but he doesn’t have any regrets either.

Maki is also still hung up on and feeling awful about the part where she nearly murdered Shuichi. She can’t stop thinking that she might have actually gone through with it if Kaito hadn’t got there in time.

Shuichi hesitantly tells her that he doesn’t think she would have done – at least, he doesn’t want to think so. He saw the look in her eyes as she was standing over him when Kaito’s voice woke him up, and thinking on it now, he’s pretty sure that wasn’t the look of someone who could have done it.

(Shuichi doesn’t consider, however, that that was after Kaito’s voice woke him up, and Kaito’s voice was what started to take Maki’s mask down, too.)

Kaito insists it just doesn’t matter. He did get there in time, and she didn’t kill Shuichi because she didn’t truly want to, and so there’s no point getting worked up about possibilities when they’re not what actually happened and are never going to happen now.

(He wants to tell himself that he believes Maki still wouldn’t have done it anyway, that her better nature would have broken through and stopped her without his help. But, then again, would he really have run so desperately to Shuichi’s place like he had if he’d truly believed that? Kaito doesn’t voice that thought.)

Maki then brings up the fact that there’s always the possibility she could still kill Shuichi right now and potentially get herself and the kids out of this situation safely. How on earth can either of them truly trust that she won’t after she almost did so before?

Kaito’s answer is simple – because he wants to! He wants to believe that she’s stronger than that, that she can believe Shuichi will save them and isn’t going to give up and take the coward’s way out. After all, she’s his sidekick, and of course a sidekick of his is capable of facing something like this with courage! She already showed that when she stopped herself before!

Shuichi agrees that he wants to believe in Maki – because she’s his friend. He knows that he wouldn’t want to kill his friends if he were in Maki’s shoes, and would try as hard as he could to find some other way out, so he wants to believe that Maki feels the same way.

Maki relents and accepts that they really mean that and really aren’t scared of her in this situation at all. After all, she wants to believe that she’s stronger than that, too – and if they believe in her that much, despite everything, then maybe she really is that strong after all.

They are friends. That’s the core of this whole story – these three friends who are so scared of losing each other and of losing themselves, just desperately holding onto each other and protecting each other through this terrifying situation. Shuichi’s detective skills are necessary to take down the cult and end this; Maki’s assassin skills are necessary to protect them while he’s doing this; Kaito’s luminary skills are necessary because without his support Shuichi and Maki would both fall apart. (And without Kaito’s friendship over their time at Hope’s Peak, neither of them would have even dreamed of trying to do this, that it was even possible to take down the cult and give Maki a happy ending in the first place.) They need each other and they are FRIENDS and I love them so much.

Part 4: the end

I’m not quite sure precisely how things would end, because aaaa plot logistics again. But one way or another, they succeed in taking down the cult and get out alive. One universe in which even one of these friends dies is more than enough and I’m not about to make another.

Maybe during some kind of final showdown, Kaito makes an unthinking reckless leap to protect Maki, which succeeds, but he ends up getting shot in his left arm because of it. I dunno, I just think the parallel to what happens to him in canon would be neat.

While everyone is otherwise fine, Maki feels guilty that they didn’t all get out unhurt. Now Kaito’s going to have to postpone starting his astronaut training for several months while his injury heals and it’s all because of her. Kaito literally could not care less, though; this is the most insignificant price to pay for Maki and Shuichi and those kids being safe.

Maki keeps insisting that it’s not okay, that he shouldn’t have got hurt on her account, and in Kaito’s increasingly fervent attempts to get her to drop it, he kind of accidentally blurts out that this is nothing because he was ready to die for them if he needed to.

When Shuichi and Maki press him on that, he clams up and doesn’t elaborate. He meant what he said, but that’s all there is to it, stop talking about it, guys.

(Kaito spent enough time while on the run thinking about how he couldn’t bear to lose Shuichi and Maki, such that he realised he would rather die trying to protect them than live knowing that he’d failed to do so. He has no regrets about having decided that, but… he’s kind of shaken up by the thought of it. It’s the first time in his life he’s really properly thought about his own mortality, not just in the sense that life is short and you never know what might happen (guess who lost his parents to a car crash), but in terms of being genuinely prepared to die if it should ever become necessary. He’s always been so fiercely determined to live his life to the fullest; it’s… weird to know that he would have willingly cut it short. That he’d have been the one to prevent himself from ever making it into space.)

(Oh you poor innocent UTDP Kaito, you have no idea, again.)

Long story short, they’re all safe and free to live out the rest of their lives now, but they’re also just a liiiiittle bit traumatised by this.

Kaito would of course try to hide the fact that any of this got to him, just like he hid how scared he was while it was actually happening, because they need him to help with their trauma and how could he do that if they knew he was struggling too?

Kaito’s outburst about being ready to die for them and the way he was uncomfortable and cagey about it afterwards would give Shuichi and Maki an inroad to realise that something’s up with him, though. So one way or another, with enough prodding and reassurance, they’d eventually be able to get through to him and make him realise that it’s okay to show weakness to them and it doesn’t make him any less inspiring of a hero. 

(Yes, it’s me; I couldn’t resist finding a way to put that outcome in this AU too. Kaito deserves to get over his issues and learn not to be an idiot about this no matter what universe he’s in.)

So they’ll all be okay in the end. Even Kaito.

Regardless of their newfound issues that they’re having to work through, both Kaito and Shuichi firmly agree that it was worth it. They’d have taken twice this amount of pain if that was the only way they could save Maki and all those kids like her from ever having to go through even worse trauma ever again.

Kaito’s a hero, after all! – and this whole thing has made Shuichi realise more than ever, after Kaito points it out to him, that maybe he can be a hero too.

(Alternatively, instead of this ending described here, maybe Kaito has a considerably worse time than just getting shot in the arm.)

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Ruin

Summary: An attempt to get Roman and Remus to get along fails and leaves Remus reeling. Indulging in a bad habit to try and keep the thoughts away from Thomas leads to Logan finding out, though instead of the ridicule he's expecting, he receives kindness instead.

Warnings: self harm, slight unsympathetic Roman, slight disassociation, hurt with happy ending

Please do not read with the intention if triggering yourself. If you are triggered by self harm I and other authors have others stories for you to read. Stay safe.

Ships: platonic intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 2, 140

"You're just useless! Nothing you do has any purpose other than to torment and I'm so sick of it!"

Remus recoiled from his brothers harsh words, cookies spilled on the floor from where he had swept them away. He had been rather pleased with how vague the penis shape actually was, chocolate chips painstakedly placed so you'd only notice if you looked closely. Roman had looked closely.

Sometimes Remus genuinely couldn't help doing things impulsively; the idea had come to his mind and he had done it without a thought to any possible repercussions and now Roman was mad and it had actually been going well for once but now he had ruined it just like he always did and what if he just stabbed him to get rid of the problem?

The thought came abruptly and without prompt, making him blink back to reality as Roman continued to rant before noticing he hadn't been paying attention.

"But of course you don't care. You aren't even paying attention to a word I'm saying. You ruin everything and I don't understand why I even try!" Ever the dramatic, Roman sunk out with a final huff and throw of his arms, leaving Remus stuck standing trembling in the middle of a mess. No one else was around, leaving the twins alone for "bonding time". Wasn't that a laugh and a half.

'I wonder if the cookies could act like marbles in those old cartoons and I'd slip and fall and crack my head open and-' Drawing a shaky breath his busied himself with cleaning to try and dispell the unwanted thoughts. It was in his nature to be impulsive, brash. He was loud and insistant, truly the living embodiment of Intrusive Thoughts that plagued Thomas' mind when it got to be too much to hold in.

'What if you smashed your hand in the oven?' He turned the oven off and went to grab a broom. 'How hard would you have to fall for a broom to stab through your intestines? How fast would you have to run to stab someone else's?'

Kitchen relatively clean he spun around once more to make sure. 'Just grab a knife. You don't have to use it, just feel it.'

If he sunk out while holding the fridge could he smash Roman with it?

Roman's dark blood staining the carpet an even deeper red.

Remus standing by as the other screamed.

How easy would those screams be to shut up.

How easily would he be to shut up.

Could fascets die? Was it worth trying to find out?

Subconsciously he realized he was walking down the hall to his room, eyed glazed over as the thoughts continued making him feel spacey and fake. He shut the door behind him and stood for what felt like hours, head going everywhere and no where at once until one thought forced him to snap out of it slightly.

'You're going to hurt Thomas. You're going to make him want to hurt others.'

He embodied intrusive thoughts and bad creativity but most of the time those thoughts were just remembering unpleasant sensations or thinking of a crude or out of context joke that would be inappropriate to say out loud. It was random, harmless thought spirals that most of the time you could shake your way out of and Remus simply did whatever random thing there was to do around the mind scape to get rid of excess energy. When he was upset however, the thought spirals grew darker, more suggestive, supplying ghastly images that he wouldn't mind seeing if it was sat in front of a horror movie but as it was...

Persistent thoughts continued to pound through his head, flicking between hurt to angry to apathetic and back before he could breathe. He wanted to hurt something, someone, and he could practically feel the toxic mindset leaching into Thomas' thought process even as he struggled to contain it. He ripped through his desk drawers desperately, everything neat despite his chaotic nature though the desperation rose as hiding spot after hiding spot came up empty. Chewed nails scraped at the underside of the bed frame then groped in the darkest corners of his room. His eyes landed on a small picture frame, a drawing he had done that Janus had framed long ago before any of this had been a problem and quickly went to rip it off the wall.

Taped to the back a small blade glinted passively in the dull light, making his breath hitch in relief as he grabbed it out of its confines. His sleeve went up without a thought until he forced all of concentration on the task at hand.

The first few, well several, cuts were nothing. His skin tingled numbly as straight lines were drawn across it, taking a second or two to well up with blood but by then he had already moved on. Just a small patch, right below his elbow on his outer arm. Thicker skin made for more lines. It wasn't until they began to overlap that he truly felt it, minutes later, stinging and angry and flowing and...

Quiet.

His mind was silent for once. Blissful peace after the turmoil of not ten minutes before hand. The razor fell to the floor as he bit his lip tiredly and stared at the slow growing puddle on the floor. The blood flow slowed, just barely pulsing out with his heartbeat. Looking around reality set itself in place and the slight whooshing in his ears abated just enough for him to hear persistent knocking at the door.

Wait.

Scrambling in a half panic Remus yanked his sleeve back down, letting out a hiss before shoving a blanket to the floor and stumbling over to the door, nearly getting a fist to his face when he got it open.

Logan's startled face quickly knitted into concern as he glanced Remus over, pursing his lips in thought.

"What is it Nerdy Wolverine." His tone was flat but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I overheard your argument, I thought it would be alright to assume you may need some level of...comfort."

Remus laughed tiredly. "Did Ro not open his door?"

Logan had the decency to look confused. "I don't know, I didn't check."

"You didn't....check on Roman? You came for me first?" It had to be a trick, some idiotic set up Patton had created. Check on the evil twin first to make sure he isnt wrecking havoc then check the better one to be sure he's okay. "Get out."

He slammed the door unceremoniously in the logical sides face, leaning against it heavily.

"Remus." His voice came through muffled. "I assure you I mean well. Roman can be...a lot. I simply wish to make sure everything is alright."

Remus didn't answer.

"Remus I will be frank," and Remus could barely make out the added 'though my name is Logan' mumbled as an afterthought. "I smelled the blood. Either you tell me why or I will come in and figure it out myself."

Swallowing Remus called out weakly. "It was an experiment Google Dex, it's fine."

"The fact that there was not one disturbing punchline in that sentence says otherwise."

"You can't come in."

"I could."

"I might hurt you."

"You won't."

"I'm dangerous."

"You're not."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"I ruin everything."

"You aren't ruining anything."

"You've said that before. To Virgil"

"Yes. But saying it before to a different person doesn't make the statement any less true."

Remus gripped at his still bleeding arm, knocking his head against the door softly before rocking himself to his feet and stepping back. "Fine."

The door opened and Logan immediately swept the room before settling on first the tipped drawers, then the blanket still heaped on the floor and finally settling on Remus himself. He zeroed in on the arm he was still holding, prompting the darker side to drop it immediately even though it was too late. Silently Logan held out his hand and looked imploringly at Remus, starting him to comply.

"I know. And it's alright Remus it truly is. I just want to help."

Confused but intrigued Rrmus let his hands be taken and tugged to the bed, giving a half hearted eye brow wiggled that earned a small smirk from Logan before he snapped up a first aid kit. He carefully rolled up the sleeve, not even flinching as the mess was revealed to him. Five babywipes and a roll of gauze later his arm was bandaged neatly, causing him to look questioningly at the other.

"How are you so calm about this? You don't"

"No. But I know basic first aid." Logan sat back and looked up at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Remus looked up and away, tugging his sleeve back down and wincing at the dull ache the action caused. "I made Roman mad because I was being stupid-"

"Falsehood. Try again."

Snapping his head back he opened and shut his mouth before blurting out another excuse. "Roman yelled because I was being impulsive-"

"Nope. Again."

"I was-"

"Remus." Logans tone effectively shutting him up he couldn't help but squirm in confusion. "You didn't do anything. Maybe you could have discussed the....creative take you were going with with your design, but you had split the batch had you not? Roman should have stayed out of what you were doing with yours."

"You were watching?"

"I wanted to make sure no one got hurt. You two tend to become physical and I was there to expel any conflict should it turn violent. I was not however, prepared for a one sided screaming match. Roman has been stressed and while that isn't an excuse it isn't a new occurrence. Why was this-" Logan gestured to his arm. "Done as a stress response? You've argued before haven't you?"

Remus twisted his fingers together. "My head gets loud. And bad. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll make Thomas hurt something, so I hurt instead to calm it for a while."

Logan nodded. "That's perfectly understandable."

"It is?"

"Unhealthy. But yes, understandable. I will ask that you try finding a less destructive way to calm these thoughts. You may think this is helping Thomas but I assure you he'd much rather work with you in a healthy way than you destroying yourself in the background."

Slowly, Remus blinked down at him. "What?"

"I said-"

"I know what you said I just...why do you care?"

Logan stood. "Why wouldn't I? You are an integral part of who we are and as unconventional as you may be at times, you are still apart of the family. I care a great deal."

He said this flippantly, as if it was obvious, completely oblivious to the way it took Remus' breath and heart and soul and made him want to projectile vomit it onto the floor in front of the other man's feet.

"You really care?" Remus blurts out quietly.

"Of course." Logams reply is simple, logical. Clipped but with an undertone that was unmistakably kind even with the impassivity he was attempting to pull off. He sucked in a breath as a hand was extended to him, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought you might like company, and it might be a good idea to not be in this room right now. Staying in a place of hurt often makes you want to continue the hurt and I'd rather it cease for today."

Hesitantly Remus took the offered hand and followed Logan out the door and into another room lined with books and posters and odd sciencey bits and baubles. He immediately gravitated towards the bookshelf after getting a nod of consent from the owner, plopping down and curling to the side to read the spines. Feeling a nudge he turned and was met with a plate with a few of his cookie creations placed neatly on it.

"Some weren't knocked down and were salvageable. The chip placement makes for a very symmetrical taste experience that I quite enjoy." Remus looked on in amazement as Logan prattled on, taking a cookie for himself and watching Logan take two before sitting down at his desk to eat and work. Grinning to himself he stuffed the rest of the treats in his mouth and bent at a different angle to read book titles again, sharing the silence with the other side contentedly.

He still felt bad and useless and a million other things at once that crawled beneath his skin and raged against his nerves. He looked over at Logan happily munching away at the crude cookie making him smile wider.

He still felt shitty but maybe there were things he didnt ruin after all.

This work and others is available on AO3!

Please do not tag duke don't look.

[ruensroad]

Can I just... 36, Xicheng?

This is a brand new AU and probably not what you had in mind when you requested this prompt, sorry! I hope you enjoy regardless :D

Prompt from this list here.

Prompt 36 | “This is embarrassing but I had a bad dream and back home when this happens I normally just crawl into bed with my mom or sister but since they’re not here anymore can I sleep with you?” | Xicheng

There was something calming about the sound of the water. Even if his new life was nothing he had ever wanted or expected, he took comfort in how okay things had turned out. Bewildering, yes, but not dangerous. He had done his duty and had done it well. He was still alive, a surprise. He was married now too, a bigger surprise.

Considering he’d expected to drown and never even meet the Dragon God face to face… well. Lan Xichen chose to focus on the blessings and not what he’d been forced to leave behind. After all, his husband could have been a brute, or boorish, or cruel. Instead, he was kind, if a bit rough around the edges, and had treated Lan Xichen with nothing but absolute respect and compassion, leaving him to mourn his past life and come to terms with this future he never asked for.

Perhaps that was why he sought him out now, the last dredges of his nightmare still with its icy fingers in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Jiang Wanyin was not a warm god to be fair, but he was far from cold, and there was something about his sheer presence that was just as calming as the water that had lulled him to sleep every night since he’d become consort of this strange, wonderful place.

In his dreams he drowned with water roaring in his ears, his lungs bursting while he was still alive to feel them die. Odd then to find the river above so calming in its noise, like the rivers of home. Oh how he missed his people, his brother, the sound of the rain and the chill of snow. Here, there was no sun, no night, just a world encapsulated unseen under the lake and rivers rushing off of it.

He hadn’t drowned, but when he awoke he was still under water. And tonight it had been too much. Too much to be alone, again. So he walked the many paths, pavilion to pavilion, seeking Jiang Wanyin out.

He found him in the gardens, the seaweed standing in the open air with the same fluttering grace they had in the water. Lily pads opened like flower buds and lotus bloomed upon every touch of Jiang Wanyin’s hand. If Lan Xichen were in a far better state, he’d have appreciated the beauty of it more, the softness of his husband, his hair down and eyes far away.

Sad, so sad. Lonely. Lan Xichen felt guilt in the idea that his husband was just as lonesome as he was, but had refused to seek him out, giving him space to mourn and avoid him if that was what Lan Xichen wished.

Maybe it had been, at the start. But now…

“I thought you were sleeping,” Jiang Wanyin said by way of greeting, his soft edges sharpening back into the frown Lan Xichen was most used to. “Has something happened?”

Faced with the truth, Lan Xichen faltered. Now that he thought of it, who was he to bother a god about a mere nightmare? Married or not, Jiang Wanyin owed him nothing.

But the idea of his bed, too large and cold for just himself, kept him from retreat. He sighed, feeling the ache of exhaustion, and was surprised when his arms were gently cradled by Jiang Wanyin’s hands, bracketing him in place. Warm magic flooded over his body, soothing him, and he leaned into it, just a little, because oh, oh how he’d missed touch.

“What is the matter, husband?” Jiang Wanyin asked, the word slightly stiff in his otherwise smooth voice. “What robs you of your dreams tonight?”

“A nightmare,” Lan Xichen admitted, feeling like a fool, but Jiang Wanyin only nodded seriously, giving him the courage to continue. “Back home… my nightmares were few, but when they happened I had the comfort of my brother to soothe me. He would sit with me and allow me to share his space for the night, so that I may be comforted by his presence.”

Jiang Wanyin tilted his head, a human motion but oddly animal-like, and his dark, dark eyes took on an odd, violet sheen. “You do not wish to be alone tonight,” Jiang Wanyin connected the dots, considering that with a furrow in his brow.

“I know it is not fair to ask. You had as little choice in our union as I did,” Lan Xichen assured him quickly. “Do not feel obligated to share my bed tonight, husband. I can find peace in your gardens, watching the flowers, if I may be allowed to stay?”

“My home is your home, whatever you wish,” Jiang Wanyin told him, as firmly as he had the very first time he’d said it, when he’d taken Lan Xichen’s hands and kissed them, looking like he was grieving, and left him to his own devices on the night that was their wedding night. After that, Jiang Wanyin had been polite and withdrawn, treating Lan Xichen like a proper guest.

Lan Xichen had been glad of the distance, but now as he looked into the Dragon God’s eyes, he only saw his own loneliness and guilt and knew it was unfair to continue as they had.

So, it was with more confidence than he’d thought he could muster as he spoke. “Come to bed with me. I do not wish to be alone tonight.” Or any night, he thought, but did not say. There would be time for such things when he was in a far better mindset and not running from a death that had never happened.

A slow nod, then Jiang Wanyin held out his arm. “I will chase your nightmares away,” he promised, a slight growl in his throat. It should not have been reassuring, sensing that animal inside his husband, but it was.

Lan Xichen took the offered arm and let himself be led inside, to warm rooms and a ceiling of coiling water, to a bed double his own and covered in blankets so soft they brought tears to his eyes.

“Sleep,” Jiang Wanyin bid and moved about the room to blow out the candles, one by one. “I will watch over you.”

Lan Xichen let himself fall into the pillows, to the sound of water and the low hum of his husband extinguishing the light. Jiang Wanyin’s presence filled the room with a spice that teased at his nose, tickling in his chest. He breathed in and out, slowly, and let the magic of Jiang Wanyin’s protection wash away the last of the chill.

“Thank you,” he murmured and felt a hand on his forehead, gently pressing, the rush of soothing magic trickling into him like snowfall.

“Sleep,” Jiang Wanyin said again, voice low and far away. Lan Xichen smiled a little and closed his eyes, dreaming of flying in an endless blue, of laughter and soft promises in the dark.

Lan Xichen awoke smiling, feeling refreshed and born anew.

He never slept alone again.

[bigskydreaming]

Do you ever get weirded out when people insist that Dick is a "control-freak?" I don't really have a good counterargument for that supposed statement, but that just doesn't really click for me... It kinda feels like one of those fanon things that puts a ton of unrealistic pressure on Dick to be a "perfect being" if you know what I mean....

Yes and no? Like I just mean with this, this is one of those things that I actually do think is part of his character.....its just that it gets snowballed into being this huge flaw and yet another avenue to criticize or condemn him, rather than just being used to explore WHY Dick is this way.

Like personally, I think one of the biggest similarities between Bruce and Dick despite all their differences is the fact that they both have control freak tendencies.....BUT these manifest in very different ways, and IMO stem from very different mindsets.

Because I feel like Bruce’s control freak tendencies stem from his awareness of his own resources, capabilities and knowledge, all blended in with a thread of ingrained classism that frankly, its just unrealistic to think that a born billionaire managed to avoid being influenced by at all.

I think Bruce’s control freak tendencies spiral out of his brilliant mind’s ability to map out so many scenarios in a way that lets them end in an optimal resolution for everyone involved....but ONLY IF he controls as many of the variables as possible himself, because the variables are what make or break a projection and how much it ends up being fully realized.

Bruce is a control freak because when he’s in his own head, when he’s the one in control of all the many varied elements that have to come together in just the right way at just the right times to allow everything to fall perfectly into place and thread the needle so everyone makes it out alive, nobody has to die, so long as Order is allowed access to everything it needs in order to control an outcome, it will prevail and the senseless Chaos that has so often stolen the things Bruce loves and cherishes most in ways he sees as always being preventable, could have been avoided, if only he’d been able to control more of the situation than he actually had at the time........

When Bruce retreats into his own mind to analyze things and project outcomes and try and come up with the one course of action that will accomplish all of his intended goals without anyone being hurt......because he is the master of his own universe there in his own mind, he’s in complete charge of his thoughts, his brain always having been his greatest and ultimate weapon......because there’s nothing interfering with his control of all the little minutiae that need to happen just so in order for his seemingly impossible plans to come together properly......there, Bruce can see it all play out perfectly. A perfect outcome, nobody hurt, nobody losing anything, everyone accomplishing everything they needed to accomplish in order to rate the plan an unmitigated success.

But that’s only in his own head. Where he controls everything. The real world is not so easily controlled and shaped despite his best efforts and considerable reach......and thus, in my mind, the eternal tragedy of Bruce.

Because his control freak tendencies do come from a genuine place, a good place, a desire to see all his loved ones, and everyone else just safe and happy and protected and ALIVE...

But those good intentions butt heads with the fact that so many of the variables he tries his best to control are actually y’know....expressions of other peoples’ free will that he has no right to override or manipulate for them, no matter that he does so with the best of intentions.

Its okay to play God in your own head, in your own assessment of a situation as you run through how you would LIKE for it to play out, ideally.

But that doesn’t mean its okay to play God like that and to that extent in your real life, influencing and superseding the agencies of those closest to you to arrange them all like pieces on a chessboard because you’re convinced you are right and you know best.

Because the thing is - the tragedy - is that Bruce undeniably IS brilliant. His mind probably works in ways most people couldn’t even comprehend. His ability to analyze so many disparate variables and factors in his head and calculate projected outcomes, is like....second to none.

So the thing is.....in his own head, when Bruce maps out solutions to the various crises he comes face to face with.........with him controlling all the variables in play there, he truly does find an optimal outcome most of the time, I think. That’s the tragedy. I believe he really is able to 90% of the time calculate a strategy that could safely navigate everyone of his loved ones and teammates and allies through whatever dangers they face and see them safely through to the other side....but ONLY if he controls the majority of the variables, INCLUDING the actions of all those people. In essence...only if they all do EXACTLY what he tells them to, and just takes it on faith that he is right and knows what he’s doing and listening to him now will keep everyone alive.

And unfortunately, that’s just....not something you can ask of people, let alone expect. No matter how much they trust you, the kind of faith that’s asking (usually in life or death situations and the heat of the moment)....that demands ABSOLUTE certainty that this man has found the one truly optimal solution to their crisis, no matter what anyone else says to the contrary - and most of those other voices usually belonging to geniuses in their own rights. And especially when the things Bruce is asking of them or telling them to do flies in the face of other heroes’ own well-honed instincts that have kept them alive through years and even decades of being a superhero in their own right, without Bruce constantly looking over their shoulder advising them....sometimes, that’s just not something even people who know and trust him are going to be able to do.

Because as brilliant as Bruce is, he’s still human. He’s not actually God, he’s not infallible. He CAN be wrong. He HAS been wrong, and will be again. Even if he’s only wrong one out of ten times as opposed to most peoples’ 50/50 split.....that is still a margin of error, and ANY possibility of error, even a one in ten chance that Bruce isn’t right this time, he missed something or didn’t account for something or sheer dumb chance could potentially strike at just the single most critical moment and derail his whole strategy no matter how ingenious it was.....

*Shrugs* Well, when you’re talking life or death stakes, sometimes even just that one in ten chance this might be one of the times Bruce is wrong means that other experienced heroes, even his own family like Dick, have to do what’s right in their eyes, what makes sense to THEM, and not being able to see the world the way Bruce does, see the strategy he’s concocted run through its projections seamlessly and without a hitch in his mind......they sometimes have to say I do trust you, but I also have to trust myself as I’ve gotten this far, and every instinct, all my experience as a hero myself is telling me I have to go a different way on this one.

And the tragedy of Bruce is every single time someone does that, someone makes a choice he advised against instead of adhering to what he told them to do......he can still see in his mind, the shining perfect strategy as he’d envisioned it, still running from Point A to Point B without a single hitch as long as everyone in his mind’s eye performs exactly according to the strategy he’s mapped out....and when that happens, the scenario, the projection ends exactly as it always ends from the very first time he mapped it out and ran through it in his head, checking for flaws.

In his head, no matter how disastrously things might have gone wrong in real life, the second they diverged from Bruce’s plan or someone acted in a way Bruce had specifically advised against.......in his head, where those things don’t happen, where everything goes exactly according to his plan, where he has total, perfect control......there, his projections whether imagined ahead of time or running through them in hindsight, always arrive at the same conclusion:

The optimal outcome he was aiming for. The one where everyone made it home alive and safe, where all objectives were accomplished, where the good guys won and after the movie, Bruce and his parents got ice cream and then went home and nothing unanticipated happened or went wrong, because he had it all under control, as long as everything adhered exactly to his plan.

And that’s a hell of a thing to have to live with....a crystal clear image of things ending the way you wanted them to, the way everyone wanted them to....if only everyone had LISTENED to you and done exactly as you said instead of refusing to trust you or going off script and doing their own thing.

So Bruce is a control freak, IMO, but for a reason.....and that reason is such that no matter how many times his control freak tendencies clash with his childrens’ independence, his teammates’ trust, he can’t view it as a solution, to just rid himself of those tendencies.....because they WORK. When allowed to. He’s not controlling just for the sake of being controlling, he’s just trying desperately to keep as many people as possible ALIVE by the time he returns home every morning.......and even though he’s intelligent enough and self-aware enough to see where those very same tendencies cause major problems in his interactions and relationships with even his own children....I think Bruce is constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place, unable to keep himself from weighing that against his success rate, and how often embracing his control freak tendencies instead of dismissing them has led to an optimal outcome, and kept everyone safe, that he was trying to keep safe.

So I get it, even as it causes clear problems for a character I favor more than Bruce.

Because see, like I said at the start, I do think Dick has control freak tendencies too....but the problem I have with talking about them, or seeing them talked about elsewhere in fandom, is that I truly don’t think its possible to divorce Dick’s control freak tendencies FROM how Bruce’s impacted him while growing up.

Basically....you can’t productively talk about this tendency of Dick’s, IMO, unless you’re willing to also talk about Bruce’s control freak tendencies and how and in what ways they negatively impact his children, like Dick.

Because Bruce and Dick, while similar, are not the same and are never going to be the same, because there’s no avoiding the fact that Bruce is a direct and pivotal - most pivotal, lbr - influencer on Dick’s life, and the man he grows up to become.

And Bruce, as stated....is a control freak. And he already was, before Dick ever set foot in the manor. 

But Bruce grew into his control freak tendencies as a reaction to his trauma, the shock of the unanticipated stealing everything from him, in ways that later, in hindsight, Bruce can’t help but view as being entirely preventable, if only things had gone differently that night, if people had made different choices, if someone had CONTROLLED the situation.

Bruce’s tendencies grew out of a failure to react properly, and grew INTO an extreme form of proactiveness. Bruce doesn’t wait for things to happen, if he can help it, because too often that means by the time you act, its already too late. Bruce prepares as much as humanly possible. He acts preemptively to take out threats before they can become actual threats. He forms contingencies way ahead of ever needing them, because by the time he needs them, he knows he won’t have the time needed to properly map a plan out from scratch/

But this kind of proactive approach to life as a superhero - a mindset he never truly ever leaves behind in the Cave even though he changes before going upstairs, because the line between Bruce and Batman is far too blurred, there is no real distinction in Bruce’s mind...he’s ALWAYS Batman, and thus he’s ALWAYS on guard and doing his best to be prepared.

However, the caveat to that is that means that a lot of time, a lot of his life and how he goes about living it......is according to plans he’s mapped out to preempt or stave off or avoid even POTENTIAL problems or dangers in his day to day life.

In essence....he spends a lot of his life choosing his course of action based on not just avoiding existing threats....but even potential threats, whether or not they ever end up being something he had to be concerned about.

And the thing that gets left out of criticism of Dick’s control freak tendencies IMO....is this is Dick’s father. This is the man who raised him, for MUCH longer than any other Batkid has been raised by him. This is the way Dick grew up.

And it was fine at first! When he was younger, a kid, it didn’t bother him to live his life according to Bruce’s advice and wishes and plans, because children that young, like, they’re USED to parents making a ton of their decisions, steering them towards certain choices because they’re literally too young and too lacking in life experiences to know what the best choice to make even IS.

That’s the way its SUPPOSED to work, and thus, for a long time...it DID work.

But...at a certain point, parents are supposed to pull back, take off the training wheels, stamp down their desire to overrule the choices their children make that they view as misguided or disasters waiting to happen, because its their life to live now, and they need to be allowed to do that. For better or for worse.

And the problem was.....Bruce didn’t do that. Because I honestly don’t think Bruce knows HOW to do that. Because when he thinks he knows better than someone else, I don’t think he’s just sure he’s right, I honestly think he can SEE it in his head. He’s face to face with it, can’t avoid looking at it no matter how determined someone else seems to steer themselves down a far more harmful path, when it would be sooooo easy, in Bruce’s estimation, for them to get what they want without any risk of danger, he can see it so clearly, if only they would just LET HIM STEER.....

And as Dick grew up, grew into himself and his own surety in his own instincts and priorities and choices.......that just....didn’t work for him. At all. Its practically anathema to who he is and what he cares about most, values most for his own life. Its oil to his water. He CAN’T live like that, the very idea chafes at him, probably.....the thought of just surrendering his own choices to someone else’s directive, even if it is his own father, even though he does believe that Bruce only wants what’s best for him and for him to be safe and happy.....

Because the thing is, I don’t think Dick CAN be happy living like that. He is someone who desperately needs the freedom to make his own choices even if they’re the wrong ones, sometimes even especially if they’re the wrong ones.

Because Dick is a product of his own traumas and tragedies just as Bruce is of his own.

And the thing that took Bruce’s parents from him, ruined his life, wrecked everything and put him on the path to becoming the Batman.....was something Bruce sees as avoidable, preventable, with the missing variable being the control he lacked. But the thing is, Bruce always had agency. He grew up the privileged heir of a vastly wealthy and influential family. He NEVER lacked for personal power, for the ability to make choices and have them respected.

So the problem the night his initial tragedy occurred on was not that he was lacking control or agency he normally possessed, that someone else had removed it or countered it......he was the same as always. No, the problem was that even though he had his own personal measure of control, his personal agency....that wasn’t ENOUGH to subvert his tragedy. That on its own was never going to be able to seize control of enough of the variables in the situation that he could then guide it safely to a different outcome, no matter how many times he mapped it out in his head looking back on it. He had his control and agency, but it wasn’t enough....he needed MORE. Only by having more control over the situation, his environs, his person, the influence he could wield on people around him......only that could give him ENOUGH control to influence the high volume of variables needed in any given scenario, to assume control of that situation overall, and be the one most influential in deciding what outcome ultimately resulted from it.

But Dick is another matter entirely, and his situation - for all its parallels to Bruce’s - was always INHERENTLY different.

Because Dick wasn’t born the privileged heir of a family of wealth and power....and even after being taken in by Bruce, that didn’t remove his origins even in the eyes of Gotham society, and no matter how much Bruce’s wealth and connections made Dick’s life better and easier in many ways, merely being raised by him starting at age eight or nine was never going to actually give Dick the entirety of all the privileges Bruce enjoys, and always has, his entire life.

No matter the size of his bank account, the way the general public views Bruce Wayne and the way they view Dick Grayson, the poor circus orphan Bruce took in for some unknown reason....they are entirely different things, and not remotely interchangeable.

Bruce’s problem was that even as much control and agency as he initially possessed, it wasn’t enough to give him as much influence over outcomes as he NEEDED in order to protect people and keep them safe.

Dick’s problem was that from the moment his parents were murdered, he barely ever was even ALLOWED any control over his own life or personal agency at all.

Dick’s tragedy was preventable too - he could have stopped it from happening....if only he could have gotten someone to listen to him about the strange man he saw, to believe him and check things out as a result. But Dick was never the kind of kid Bruce was, even after he came to live with Bruce, because he needed to be the kind of kid people LISTENED to and took at their word in order for so many of the events of those first few years in Gotham to play out differently than they did....and he just wasn’t that kind of kid. 

He was a brown boy from a suspect background and heritage, he was willful and spirited and proud, which led to him clashing frequently with those who tried to look down on him and walk all over him....with him then often facing consequences from adults or authority figures, because.....he wasn’t the kind of kid they listened to and took at his word, about what had actually happened, not when more privileged kids were saying otherwise.

And that pattern has only repeated throughout Dick’s life....not just because of Bruce’s control freak tendencies, but because of classism, because of the prejudices that led CPS to unilaterally declare the environment he’d happily grown up in until then was no fit place for a child, and even freaking JUVIE was a place more ‘fitting’ for him. Dick never got any say about having to stay in Gotham, the city where his parents died, with him stuck and grounded in the one place that held the most painful memories of his life thus far, when previously he’d been a citizen of the world and used to traveling all over, never chained down to one spot, let alone a spot where he’d already lost so much.

And like I said, its only gone on in that same pattern ever since. He’s been brainwashed and had his mind messed with more than practically any other hero, and with some of these instances lasting months and even up to a year at a time. He’s been canonically raped twice and sexually violated and harassed in numerous other ways countless times.

His choice to honor his parents’ memory via his choices of costume and names are never respected or deemed good enough to justify said costumes’ or names existence.....the things he always intends as a memorial, a tribute to the parents he loved and misses always get weaponized against him and made objects of scorn and mockery instead, a reason for people around him to look down on him instead of trying to understand him and why he made the choices he did.

He didn’t get a say in keeping the name his mother gave him, when Bruce fired him and he was forced to come up with an entirely new mantle. He didn’t get a say when Bruce passed that mantle on without even asking him, as though the second Robin had become associated with Batman, that association took priority over all others, even the association with his parents that led him to choose that for his superhero name in the first place.

Despite living with Bruce the longest, Dick has had the least social influence and standing and legal benefits from being Bruce’s son, given that he was Bruce’s ward the entire time he lived with Bruce, his wardship dissolved at eighteen and he had no ties to Bruce whatsoever for at least another couple of years after, at which point he and Bruce finally reconciled, and it was still a couple more years after that when he was finally adopted, the way most of his siblings were adopted while still living at home and getting vastly more security and assurance from being legally bound to Bruce as his children by his choice, a choice that Dick was never offered, not until long after he was used to living on his own, and by necessity had already been forced to come to terms with not being Bruce’s child by adoption - Dick’s adoption has always in reality been more honorary than beneficial in a way he actually needed or could have benefited from, if it’d happened earlier or had been in place when first having issues with Bruce.

Etc, etc, etc.

So like I said way back at the start of this, the problem I have with talk of Dick’s control freak tendencies is NOT that he doesn’t have them - he does, very much so.

Its that you simply can not talk about them without talking about Bruce’s and acknowledging how Bruce’s affect Dick’s, IMO.....because while Bruce’s control freak tendencies are born of a desire to be as proactive as possible.....Dick’s are entirely REACTIVE in nature.

Dick’s a control freak not because he wants to control more than is healthy or acceptable without impinging on others’ agency and choices.......but rather, because he just wants to have the same kind of control and personal agency everyone BUT him seems to be granted in life.

They stem from the fact that so often in his life, even the most basic and personal levels of agency have routinely been stripped from him and denied to him. Bounced around like a pinball at the whims of others, who very rarely consider his opinion about his own life worth even listening to. They’re a reaction to the many times and many ways in which his privacy has been violated by Bruce and his boundaries crossed as though they’re nonexistent - which they are, if Bruce refuses to acknowledge them as existing and respect and abide by them. 

They’re born of his attempt to seize control of ANYTHING he can in order to ground himself, to be able to hang on the NEXT time the ground is ripped out from under him and his whole world is upended just like it was when his parents were killed and when Bruce fired him the first time, and the second time, and when the Titans disbanded, and when Jason died and Bruce hit him and when the woman he slept with was not the woman he was in love with but a virtual stranger who tricked him and started a chain reaction of events and fights and blame and resentment on both sides that ultimately ended in Dick and Jory breaking up. Or when Terra turned out to be a traitor or when he found out he’d been under the Church of Blood’s mental control for a whole year without even knowing it and he now had no idea which of the choices and actions he’d made the past year had been HIS and which had been the Church pulling his strings. Or when Joey turned out to have betrayed the team and then turned out to be possessed and then ended up dead. Or when Donna died or when Jason came back except he tried to kill Tim and instead of coming home devoted himself to becoming a literal crime lord. Or when Tarantula raped him and he was violated in that way for the second time, and Babs dumped him while he was blamed yet again for things that literally weren’t his fault and he was the victim of. Or when Blockbuster burned down the circus that had been his home for the first eight years of his life, just because it was his and he’d been happy there, or when the apartment building he’d gradually over time built into an actual community he was a part of rather than just a building he lived in was destroyed and everyone in it was killed. Or when his entire city was destroyed in part to spite him, specifically, 

Or in the New 52, when he found out that he wasn’t actually the only surviving member of his family....he had a great-grandfather except lol oh wait, whoops, Great Grandpappy is an undead zombie assassin with seriously whack family values and reveals that he’d been selected before birth and was intended to be groomed as a future undead zombie assassin as his ‘destiny’ because his homicidal Pappy he only just met had apparently decided his genes swimming around in Dick’s DNA meant his call to force Dick into a life that would actually span several lifetimes, in servitude and mindless obedience to people who opposed everything he’d ever stood for and fought against every single day of his life as a hero.

And forget about the lack of control Dick had in anything to do with Forever Evil and Spyral, or anything to do with Ric because its not Dick in the driver’s seat there, and lol ON TOP OF THAT it turned out RIC wasn’t even actually in the driver’s seat either, it was the Court of Owls all along, yet again pulling his strings like they thought he was Pinocchio and had a stamp on the bottom of his foot that said Property of William Cobb and His Cult of Crazy Bird-Equivalent-of-Furries.

So yeah. Bottom line is yes, Dick IS a control freak in a lot of ways at a lot of times, but like I often say about his instances of anger.....these are not flaws, these are humanizing aspects of his character that if looked at from his POV rather than just used as a reason to condemn him, they’re completely understandable even if they’re not always the ‘best’ of all possible choices or reactions he could have.

Dick’s a control freak because he kinda pretty much HAD to be. Seizing control of any scrap of well, control, within reach, any chance he could get, was initially just a survival mechanism built around what he considered necessary for HIS survival.....because to Dick, being alive means nothing if he’s not also allowed the ‘courtesy’ of being in control of his own mind, his own body, his own life and choices and path.

I believe for him, it started as a REACTION to Bruce’s own control freak tendencies, as well as the other factors in Dick’s life that habitually stripped him of his agency and choices. Controlling whatever he could in his immediate vicinity or sphere of influence was I think, initially just to act as a counterweight, balancing out the many times his personal innate agency was disregarded or taken away. If he couldn’t control his own life, be allowed his own choices, he’d just have to gain enough control of a situation through other means that it gave him a kind of leverage he could then use to take back what was taken from him.

And I think that’s absolutely understandable and relatable.

Obviously, there have been instances where Dick’s control freak tendencies have negatively impacted others the way Bruce’s have at times negatively impacted him. When he’s run over other peoples’ ability to make their own choices because he lost sight of what he was doing and why. Sometimes these are logical narrative choices and actual mistakes and errors he usually eventually acknowledges and tries his best to make amends for.......and of course, he’s just as vulnerable to being written by shitty writers who don’t know shit about things like agency and thus have him run all over other peoples’ agencies in ways that I don’t think are true to his characterization even with his control freak tendencies front and center. *Shrugs* Its all subjective.

But yeah. That’s my long dissertation on the control freak tendencies of both Bruce and Dick and why and how I consider them intrinsically linked. You can’t talk about the one without the other, because the one in large part only originated BECAUSE of the other. If Dick’s vigilante persona was named and themed Control Freak, Bruce’s status as KING Control Freak would be his origin story there.

Here endeth the word vomit. Byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye.

[skittle-little]

We’re back with the ✨Manga spoilers✨ and ✨Angst✨

TW- Suicide, and Abuse

After Aizawa came back from the war he was distant and broken, he wouldn’t leave his apartment and mic couldn’t get him to go anywhere. It was expected from someone who had lost one of his closest friends, his eye and his leg. what Shinso didn’t expect was that Aizawa would do this.

He had been called by Aizawa to meet behind UA where they usually went to practice his combat and train, Shinso thought that they were maybe going to start training again he needed to distract himself with something so the training would have been greatly appreciated. Shinso not being told to bring anything particular just brought his phone and a hoodie seeing that it was still pretty cold out.

When he got there Aizawa didn’t look like he was in the training mood, he looked out of it. Shinso spoke up first announcing his presence “Uh hey, Aizawa sensi.” even though Shinso spoke in a soft tone Aizawa flinched and looked up. “Hey Shinso, how have you been doing?” Aizawa was acting awkward and like he was avoiding something. “I’ve been doing as good as I can, but that’s not what you want to talk about. is it?” Shinso had now figured out that Aizawa definitely hadn’t called him to train. “No... no it isn’t. I um... I don’t know how to tell you this but I- I can’t do this anymore.” Shinso was starting to panic now. ‘Why is Aizawa talking like this?!’ but he kept his normal blank facade up. “Can’t do what Sensi?” “I’m sorry I can’t do this. Training you, leading you to your death, letting you watch everyone you love die. I- I just can’t.” Aizawa’s voice was getting more emotional as he struggled to keep up his appearance.

Shinso shattered. “...Oh...ok.” he walked away a blank expression his face- no an empty expression. Snow started to fall, along with tears. His mind was full of thoughts but the ones that screamed the loudest were ‘He thinks your weak. he thinks you can’t defend your self with such a lame quirk.’ and ‘he was lying. he just doesn’t want to train you because you are a VILLIAN.’ Shinso walked and walked he felt his body move but he wasn’t the one controlling it. he didn’t stop at the train station or even to put on his hoodie he just walked.

when he got back to his ‘house his fingers were turning purple and his ears and nose were bright red. He was so broken he forgot about his foster family until it was too late, the door creaked loudly as soon as he opened it. “Where were you, you little shit?!” his foster ‘father’ yelled from the living room, obviously drunk. “With my teacher.” Shinso walked into the living room knowing that he would get yelled at more for not speaking to him face to face. “Yeah, well you didn’t tell me about it!” “sorry.” That’s when his purple fingers were noticed. “what the fuck are you doing? Why are your fingers purple? Are you trying to get fucking CPS called on us?!” Shinso’s hand was grabbed by his foster father. He started squeezing his finger together on the brink of crushing them while saying “well if you’re not going to take care of your hands, I might just finish off the job, right?” Shinso gave him the reaction he knew his foster father was looking for. “No! please let go! Please!” his foster father did as Shinso begged, but not before punching him in the stomach. “Go to your room, I don’t want to see you anymore, and answer your phone when I text you or I’ll break it in half.” With that Shinso went to his room put oh his headphones and music. He cried himself to sleep. 

School hadn’t started back up again they were letting everyone mourn their loses. Which Shinso didn’t appreciate he would rather go to school and pretend nothing happened and not stay at ‘home’ alone with his foster family and thoughts. If this was before his phone would have been blowing up with memes, texts and calls from Kaminari but… that wasn’t possible anymore. His phone only got the occasional text from the ‘Bakusquad’ asking if he was alright. They knew that Kaminari and Shinso had been pretty close and that Shinso would have taken it pretty hard but they didn’t know how hard.

Shinso had been given hope, he had something to look forward too with him training to get into the hero course and having an actual shot and Kaminari. He’d not realized until he was gone but Kaminari had been his light Shinso loved him but now all that was left of him was the memories and the headstone above his grave. All his hope had been taken and it left him in a darker than black mindset. ‘There’s nothing left for me to live for, so why continue?’ he’d thought that for a week hoping for it to go away. He waited but the thought took over.

Aizawa had been sent out to get some groceries, he liked to take routes that had less traffic so he wouldn’t get caught up in any villain attack or have to sit in his car for way longer then should be allowed. On his way back he passed over a decently sized bridge, it was almost 12pm so there weren’t any other cars on the bridge. He was focused on the road until he saw a flash of messy purple hair climbing up onto the ledge of the bridge. He quickly pulled over to the side of the road and slowly walked toward the person, hoping it wasn’t who he thought it was. “…Shinso?” the purple haired person turned around. It was Shinso he had the most emotion that Aizawa had ever seen from his face painted on, there were tears streaming down his face as Aizawa slowly walked toward him. “Shinso what are you doing out here?” Aizawa spoke in the softest voice he could but he got no answer. “Shinso please answer me what’s going on? You know you can talk to me, right...? come on let’s get down from there and get you home.” That got a response from him “No No! I can’t go home! Why do you care anyways? I’m just going to become a stupid villain anyways I’m just doing your job for you so you don’t have to deal with me later!” Aizawa answered knowing that Shinso was too emotional to think of using his quirk. “You’re not going to be a villain you hear me! I know you aren’t you are a nice young boy who deserves to live his life!” Aizawa started to raise his voice trying to get his point across but Shinso wasn’t listening.

“my life isn’t worth living.” and he jumped.

“HITOSHI!” Aizawa flung out his capture weapon trying to catch him before he hit the water below.

Ending 1- He missed.

“NO! NO! NO! FUCK DUMBASS EYE! DUMBASS WAR! DUMBASS SHINSO!” He collapsed and called the search and rescue and told them that someone had jumped off the bridge he was on hoping praying that he was still alive, that he hadn’t just seen his student fall to his death, hoping that he hadn’t just missed and let his student die.

He had. His student was gone. Hitoshi Shinso a 16-year-old boy with the dream of becoming a hero one day had killed himself.

Ending 2- He caught him.

Aizawa strained and strained to pull him back up, Shinso hadn’t gone that far down so he had no injuries from the capture weapon grabbing him. When Aizawa got him up he pulled him into the biggest hug he could, Shinso struggled to get out of the hug. “NO! NO! LET ME GO I DON’T WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE! I WANT TO BE WITH DENKI!” Shinso let out sobs and screams wearing his voice thin. When he quieted down Aizawa spoke “Hitoshi please… I care I care so much I can’t have you leave. You have so much ahead of you. I promise you have so much to live for.”

With a small sniffle and a hoarse voice Shinso answered. “… like what? I’m in foster care, my ‘parents’ beat me everyday, I’m villain, I can’t become a hero and my best friend died. What do I have to live for?” Aizawa was stunned at that. “you still have friends, there’s mina, Sero, Kirishima, Deku and even Bakugou. You’re not a villain and there’s no reason you can’t be a hero.” “But- but you said that you wouldn’t train me anymore that’s because I’m a villain right that because you don’t believe I can be a hero.” Aizawa hugged him as had are he could. “no! no! I’m so sorry I made you feel like that I was being weak. I just didn’t want you to get hurt I didn’t want you to go through what I have. I’m sorry.” “oh- its- its fine I guess.” Aizawa noticed the boy started shivering he decided that he needed to get his somewhere safe. “Ok, are you ok with coming to my house to get you cleaned off?” Shinso nodded.

They headed over to his apartment as soon as Shinso got washed up and went to sleep Aizawa broke down crying to his husband and told him everything that happened. He got Shinso to go to therapy as well as himself.

Shinso Hitoshi a 16-year-old boy who is on his way to becoming an amazing hero.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 13

An acotar fic on the time of the War. For summary and the entire fic, click here.

Disclaimer: Acotar and the characters belong to sjm

A/N:  I finally stopped writing this in bullet points! This is almost 40k words long now, so I decided it was past time to write it ´normally`. I hope none of you mind.

Either way, I just wanted to thank the people who are reading this and leaving likes and comments, it really means a lot to me❤ And if you`re a silent reader, it would be really great if you could maybe leave some kind of sign, because so far, I don`t have really many readers (that I know of)😉

----

*Seven months later*

The past months have been going great for the Alliance, and especially for Jurian`s army. They have been winning battle after battle. By now, there are rumours going around that their enemies` magic has little effect on them. Some soldiers even whisper that the gods (whichever ones they worship) are on their side, that they have blessed the human armies and are keeping them from harm.

Jurian wonders what they`d say if they knew the truth.

With a mixture of amazement and jealousy, he watches Miryam draw a symbol on the hilt of another sword. It glows softly, then vanishes into the hilt. It is the middle of the night and they are alone in the armoury, something Jurian made sure of in advance.

Getting Miryam to actually use her powers even in such small capacity has been a struggöe that lasted almost two months, but it was well worth it. The impatient part of him wants to push her to do more, to use her power in the way rumour claims witches are able to. (If he was the one born with this power, he certainly wouldn`t hesitate. He hates to admit it, but sometimes, he is almost jealous.) Jurian doesn`t push, though. Of course he doesn`t.

“You don`t have to watch every time, you know?”, Miryam says, “Surely it is boring for you.”

“Your company could never be boring.”

Jurian steps closer to Miryam to gently put his arms around her waist. Miryam laughs and Jurian presses a kiss on her neck. He`d love to continue this, but the time for their nightly activities is limited, so he lets go of her.

“You could teach me, you know”, he says.

Miryam stiffens ever so slightly, as she takes up the next sword. “No.”

“Why not?” Jurian has been thinking about that question for quite some time. Ever since he saw the kind of difference even a spell as simple as that, a bit of protection against the Fae`s magic, can make. “You told me that some spells can be used even by humans.”

“If you overstep your limits, you die. And the magic takes your soul as a price.” Miryam doesn`t look up from the sword she`s just working on. “I won`t be responsible for that.”

Jurian is about to argue that he`ll be careful when another thought occurs to him. “Wait. But that doesn`t mean it`s dangerous to you, right?”

“Don`t worry. I`ll be fine.” Miryam puts down one sword and takes up another one. “Do you have any idea what that emergency meeting tomorrow is about?”

"You're the politics experts", Jurian says, "I'm just around to give those Fae pricks a good beating."

"You give yourself too little credit."

Jurian laughs. "Now that's something I've never been accused of. Would you feel better if I said that I'm a better commander than half of these pointy-eared bastards."

Miryam smiles and says lightly, "As the local politics expert, I'd feel better if you'd stop insulting our allies."

"How about you get me an aerial army and I learn to hold my tongue?"

It isn't an outrageous demand. Helion and his soldiers had to leave almost two months ago already (not that Jurian had minded. Miryam had been growing quite a bit too fond of Helion with his constant flirting). And two weeks ago, the soldiers from Sangravah were pulled out, too. As annoying as the Fae can be, they fight well and Jurian's army is short a few soldiers without them.

"I'll try", Miryam says. As one of the councilmembers in charge of the organisation between camps, she is certainly in a position to do it, but moving troops is always complicated.

Miryam turns back to her work, but she seems tense. Like something is wrong. Jurian wrecks his mind for what it might be, but with her, there are many options.

Finally, he says, "You don't have to worry about the meeting. If it was something bad, we'd have heard already."

Miryam frowns. "They don't call meetings with the entire alliance easily. Usually, it's just whoever is needed or can be bothered to show up."

Which means that usually, Miryam is there and Jurian isn`t. With the alliance now in place for a while, fractions have formed and Miryam is... well, maybe not the leader but certainly one the most important players in one of those. Jurian only bothers to go to meetings if he knows something important will be discussed.

“If anything bad had happened”, he says, “we would have heard. They wouldn`t wait until the meeting to tell us.”

Miryam looks relieved, at least a tiny bit. Sighing, she puts the sword she was working on back into its place.

“Done for tonight”, she says, “Want to go somewhere?”

“Another moonlight walk? You know how well the last one went.”

Miryam narrows her eyes and Jurian grins at her.

“Let`s go. You know I love courting danger.” Jurian loops his arm through Miryam's and leads her out of the armoury.

Together, they walk through the camp. In the middle of the night, it is quiet here. The few soldiers on guard quickly look the other way as they pass, some of them hide grins. (Their relationship is a favourite subject of camp gossip - not just here, but through the entire camp. Their sneaking around will likely be known to everyone around by morning, but the true reason will remain secret.)

There is a small river running next to the camp, just far enough away that the guards won`t be able to see them. Miryam sits down on a stone. She pulls off her shoes and lets her feet dangle into the water. Jurian sits down next to her and she leans her head against his shoulder.

“I`m scared”, she finally says.

“Of what?” He hesitates. “Her?” (Speaking Ravenia`s name, he learnt, is just as bad an idea as asking after Miryam`s past.)

After the incident with the bounty hunters, they haven`t heard anything from Queen Ravenia again. Well, they heard plenty of her armies, slaughtering their way through the Southern Continent, but nothing related to Miryam. Apparently, the bounty hunters didn`t tell anyone about Miryam. They got lucky and so far, there is no sign that things are about to change.

“No. Not... her.” Miryam shakes her head. “I don`t know. It`s stupid, really.”

“I`m sure it isn`t.”

“My life is going great”, she says quietly, “I have somewhere I belong, and friends and you. But that means I have so very far to fall, too. I just keep expecting something to go wrong.”

Jurian pulls her closer. “That`s life, Miryam”, he says, “Nothing is ever certain, everything can be lost. But that just makes it more precious.” He thinks of all the soldiers he saw die while he was working his way up through the ranks of the rebellion. Of his parents, dead before he was old enough to truly understand the word. He takes Miryam`s hand. “But I can promise you one thing”, he says softly, “As long as I`m alive, you won`t ever lose me.”

----

Taking the Callian Pass may have had a large strategic advantage for the Alliance as a whole. However, for the Seraphim aerial army, it turns out to be a rather unfortunate choice. Because for the past seven months, they have been stuck there.

Drakon has written (well, signed) fifteen letter to the Alliance already, asking them to have someone replace them. The answers have been pretty phrases that all held the same meaning: No. One of the disadvantages, apparently, of having one of the only aerial armies on the Continent.

“What a bunch of crap”, Drakon mutters, frowning at the papers before him and crosses out a paragraph, “Won`t work.” He reads the next one and crosses it out, too. Half a minute later, the entire paper ends up in the bin.

 Groaning, Drakon takes out a huge, leather-bound book and flips it open. There has to be some kind of precedent. There is always a precedent or at least something you can use as a starting point.

Sinna, as usual, enters without knocking. When she sees the papers and book strewn around the room, she rolls her eyes.

“We`re in the middle of a war, and you`re spending your time with a bunch of books?”

“We`re in the middle of a war and I`m trying to find a solution to the problem that causes it.”

“Problem: Slavery. Solution: Free the slaves. It`s that simple.”

“Problem: Slavery and half the Fae believing that humans are worth less than animals. Say we win this war and free all the slaves, that mindset will remain. If we don`t find a way to solve that, there will be another war. And another. Maybe not in a year, but eventually.”

Sinna sighs. “And how do you know that?”

Drakon points towards the books lying around. “Historical precedent and people who are smarter than me and were nice enough to write their ideas down. The only issue is that while I have found tons of examples of how things didn`t work out, I`m still looking for some precedent of a situation like one ending well.”

“Then I have good news for you”, Sinna says.

“Oh?”

“Given how things are going, this war is going to take a few years at least. So you have plenty of time to find a solution.”

Drakon glares at her. "Not funny."

"Kind of funny, actually”, Sinna says, sitting down on a chair, "Come on, just look at yourself. You've really got the confident, charming Prince down by now. Your people love you - someone has to make sure you don't get over-confident. After all, the history is littered with arrogant asshole royals."

"Hardly any danger of that", Drakon says, "I'm well-aware of what most of the Continent thinks of me."

"Yes", Sinna says, "And you may become the best ruler Erithia ever had, but no one beyond our borders will notice if you keep hiding."

Drakon walked right into that, really. Another proof that he's absolutely horrible at politics.

"I'm not hiding", he says, "I'm focusing on what I'm good at and taking care of my people."

Sinna crosses her arms. “It`s an emergency meeting. Would it really kill you to go? Just this once.”

“I went to the Black Land just once and look what it got me”, he snaps.

Sinna glares. Drakon glares back. He`s getting better at that, too. After a few seconds, Sinna sighs.

“Fine. Your choice.” She nods towards the papers. “Planning to get those published again?”

“Once I`m ready.” Which may just take a while yet. But, as Sinna said - this war is only just beginning.

----

The meeting room is stuffed. It`s an emergency meeting, which means that most of the important Alliance members appeared personally. (Well, except for Prince Drakon, who seems determined to become the only ruler not to turn up at a single Alliance meeting. Miryam has begun a letter to him thrice now and thrown it in the fire each time without getting more than a few words written down.)

Miryam is almost halfway through greeting everyone by now. The High Lord of the Night Court approaches, dressed head to toe in midnight black, his expression stern. 

“Milord”, Miryam says and nods to him.

He gives her the barest incline of his head. “Lady.”

They never really got over their rough beginnings. The High Lord is not the kind of male to ever forgive having his hand forced by an eighteen years old half human. And perhaps Miryam is not the kind of female to ever like a male who allows a place such as the Hewn City to exist, either. But they made it work - mostly because Miryam has too much influence for the High Lord to risk an open confrontation.

“How does your court fare?”, she asks, “I heard that Hybern still gives you trouble.”

He nods gravely. “Due to those Spring Court bastards, no doubt. But if they think the Night Court will fall so easily, they are sorely mistaken. Even with some of our soldiers fighting on the Continent, we are still strong.”

Miryam refrains from saying that without the thousands of soldiers the Alliance sent, things would look much different. If anything, it's the Alliance helping out the Night Court, not the other way around, but like most of these royals, the High Lord would likely rather eat his sword than admit that.

Before she can think of anything to say, Noctus, the High Lord of Summer, joins the discussion. He nods to Miryam, then turns to address the other High Lord.

"Is it true that the Alliance had to send ten thousand troops to help defend your lands?"

The High Lord straightens. And just like that, Miryam is forgotten and the only thing the two males seem to care about anymore is their pissing contest.

Prythian males. Just typical.

Miryam takes her chance and sneaks off to find better company.

“Having fun?”, an amused voice asks from behind her.

Miryam turns around to Helion (technically also a Prythian male, but one she likes.) “I`ll never understand why you males can`t take your pissing contests outside.”

“Ah, but where would the fun be in that?” The heir of the Day Court grins at her. “I heard a rumour that the gods have blessed your armies and are protecting your soldiers from peril. Met any gods recently?”

“Ass”, Miryam mutters, softly enough that no one but him can hear her.

Helion laughs and winks at her. Apart from Jurian, he is the only one who knows the truth behind the rumours the soldiers have come up with. He even helped her test the spells she came up with before she wove them into the weapons. Beyond that, he was little help, unfortunately. The Guild is secretive, meaning that hardly anything about their powers is known to the outside. So Miryam has to figure everything out herself. (She`s getting better at it. By now, she has the basics of the language mastered.)

“Any idea what this meeting is about?”, Helion asks.

“No.” And it annoys Miryam to no end. Usually, she knows whatever is going on in the Alliance, but this time, there was no getting the information. “I heard a letter arrived, but Queen Nakia got hold of it first and refused to let anyone else see it. Not even Andromache was able to find any information.”

“You`re pissed.”

“Worried.” Miryam learned early on that missing vital information is a quick way to die. Usually a gruesome death. (Not that there were any other kinds of death in the Black Land.) So she prefers to have all the information and prepare accordingly.

“Well, we`re about to find out”, Helion says and nods towards the clock standing in the corner. “We should take our places.”

Miryam gives him a tight smile and slides into her seat next to Jurian. He puts an arm around her shoulder and begins absentmindedly toying with her hair. In spite of everything, Miryam relaxes a bit. 

It is Nakia who begins the meeting this time, smiling like a snake. Miryam has no doubt the female enjoys the power being the only one with vital information gives her.

“Yesterday”, the Queen says, “I received a letter. From the Loyalists.” She draws out each word, savouring it. “They request a meeting to discuss this war. A possible end to it.”

“An end?” Jurian snorts. “The only possible end is them freeing their slaves. If they`re unwilling to do that, they can shove their offer up their ass for all I care.”

A few people nod in agreement, but most - especially the Fae - remain silent. This is not good. Because these Fae may be ready to fight for human freedom, but in the end, they have no stake in this fight. If the Loyalists make a good enough offer, who knows what they`ll do. And Nakia, the damn fool, doesn`t even realise what that message might do. She just relishes the power.

That is why Miryam doesn`t like losing control over a situation.

“It`s not that easy”, one of the Fae says, “Such an offer should not be rejected without thought.”

“You`ve got to be kidding me”, Jurian mutters.

The Grand Duke of Sangravah says softly, “He has a point, you know? If we reject a peace offer without even letting them speak, it will make us look like the bad guys. And there are some territories still considering their alliance in this war.”

Worse than that, there seem to be some people at this very table contemplating their alliance. Likely the Loyalist`s intent. To strew discontent.

“We should agree to the meeting”, Miryam says, “Send a delegation, hear what they have to say. But one thing should be clear from the very beginning: There will be no peace unless slavery is abolished.”

There are nods and murmurs of agreement, but Miryam marks the faces of those who remain silent. The High Lord of the Night Court is among them.

Helion asks, “Do we know who will be leading the Loyalist`s delegation already?”

Miryam knows the answer. She knows the answer even before Nakia says, “Queen Ravenia of the Black Land.”

Miryam hates the fear that shoots through her at the name. How can the mere mention of the female still have such power over her?

“And who will lead ours?”, the Erithian emissary asks.

Miryam knows the answer to that question, too. And just this once, she cannot play the part. She does not know the right thing to say - Cauldron, she can barely contain her panic.

“I could do it”, the Grand Duke says. Miryam wonders if she`s the only one who notices that he is saying it to protect her. (Quite possible, since the identity of her former owner is still a closely guarded secret.)

But Andromache shakes her head. “I mean no offence, but surely you understand why this is unacceptable to us. The one representing our Alliance in this war cannot be Fae.”

Indeed, none of the human Alliance members look pleased. A few of the Fae, in turn, seem offended. Jurian is too busy watching Miryam with barely-concealed worry to look angry.

“You still don`t trust us?”, one of them hisses.

“This isn`t about trust”, Andromache replies, “but about the message we`re sending.”

Another Fae shrugs. “Why are we even discussing this? We all know the answer.”

The High Lord of the Night Court frowns. “While I certainly respect Lady Miryam`s abilities as an emissary”, he says, “she is still a girl of nineteen and in no way qualified to head a meeting this big.”

Miryam barely listens to the discussion raging around her, even though she`s now the one at its centre. She doesn`t want to go. She can`t. Ravenia will be there and she will recognize her. Memories flash through her head, blood and death and suffering. Fire burning her skin.

She cannot do this. Impossible. She may sacrifice everything, do everything for her people, but this is too much.

The argument is now turning into a full-fledged fight. And suddenly, Miryam can see it. The rift that is already beginning to form between them. It will only widen after the meeting. Fae territories will leave - not all, but some - and then, the tide will turn.

She closes her eyes and for once, she allows herself to remember. That last day, standing in the sand just beyond Ravenia`s palace. The vow she made. She ran afterwards.

She won`t run now.

She opens her eyes. “I can do it”, she says.

Everyone turns to her. Miryam lifts her chin.  

“You don`t have any qualification or authority to represent us”, the High Lord drawls.

Miryam holds his stare. “I have been representing this Alliance, Lord, for weeks before you ever joined. And I said: I can do this.”

“Miryam, you don`t have to...”, Jurian whispers, but she shakes her head.

“You`re wrong. I have to do this. And I will.”

She looks around, meeting all of their gazes. Daring each of them to object. No one does.

----

Mor is covered in dirt and sore, but she feels alive. Like there`s lightning in her veins and she can do anything she wants.

It is always like this after battle. Even if the battle isn`t a real one but just a skirmish. It calls to some part of her. Some great, ancient beast that has perhaps always been living under her skin and breaks free whenever she fights.

In the seven weeks since Jurian has allowed her to fight her first battle, she has fought enough to know that the feeling will pass. It will pass and she will be left behind empty, her hands covered in blood that isn`t hers. Then, lying awake at night, Mor won`t feel great anymore. Not at all.

But for now, there are still adrenaline and magic thrumming through her veins. Mor takes a bowl of water from the table in her small tent and begins to wash her hands. Blood turns the water pink and she unceremoniously unfastens her dirty leather armour.

She has only just put one some light linen clothes when she hears a noise coming from behind her. The sound of a heartbeat. Mor whirls around, diving for her dagger. She stops when she recognizes Az standing in her tent.

He looks changed. Older, somehow. Azriel, of course, was never carefree like the rest of them, but now, there are shadows in his eyes that Mor never saw before. And a coldness that she doesn`t recognize.

“Az!” She dashes forward, closing the distance between them to hug him. His shadows lighten and Mor`s own gift whispers of his feelings. She pulls back. The last thing she wanted was to give him hope where there is none, but she hasn`t seen him in months and the reaction was instinctive.

“Are you all right?”, she asks, scanning him from head to toe. A part of her is itching to read him, but he won`t.

“I don`t have much time”, Az says, like he hasn`t heard her question. “The High Lord doesn`t know I`m here and I have to be back before he finishes the meeting. But I need your help.”

“Anything”, Mor says without even thinking about it.

Az dips his chin. “The High Lord sent Rhys to a camp in the South. It`s led by a commander named Pelior who has a grudge against nobility. He hates Rhys and without his father`s protection...”, he trails off.

“What can I do?”, Mor asks.

“Get him out. And fast. Pelior is making Rhys and his soldiers fight on the frontlines every time. Each battle might be the last.”

Dread tightens Mor`s stomach. Still, she says, “I don`t have the power to do such things. I can`t transfer his army.”

But Az shakes his head. “Cassian is a grunt soldier in one of the armies and I can`t do anything without the High Lord`s orders. It has to be you, or Rhys dies.”

“But-”

“I have to go.” 

Without waiting for her reply, Az vanishes. Mor remains standing in her tent for a moment, thinking through the possibilities. There are few enough. And something tells her she should hurry.

Mor frowns. The thought running through her head is reckless, near-crazy and relies entirely on her ability to lie. Not to mention that should it go wrong, she will be knee-deep in shit. But it is her only idea.

Still, Mor feels dirty when she sneaks into Jurian's tent. There are wards, but those allow Mor in. Carefully, she shifts through the desk until she finds his Alliance council seal.

Mor takes an empty paper from the desk and writes a letter, changing her writing enough that it won't be recognized. Then, she seals the letter and presses the seal into the wax.

Carefully, she puts the seal back to where she found it and leaves the tent. As soon as she is past the wards, she whispers a quick prayer to the Cauldron and winnows.

----

A/N: This isn't really a cliffhanger, right? Originally, this was supposed to be longer, but then, it would have been a real cliffhanger, so I decided to let it end here. That means that the next part is already halfway done, though, so it should be up more quickly than this one